


Chosen Girl and the Basilisk

by AnimationNut



Series: Chosen Girl [2]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Siblings, Because you know the Dursleys, Book 2: Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets, Child Abuse, Creative liberties taken with Glamours, Creative liberties taken with the Sword of Gryffindor, Cross-Posted on FanFiction.Net, Don't copy to another site, Gen, Girl-Who-Lived (Harry Potter), Half-blood Pansy Parkinson, Hufflepuff Harry Potter, Potter Twins, Pro Severus Snape, Ravenclaw Hermione Granger, Ravenclaw OC - Freeform, Remus Lupin Raises Harry Potter, originally written in 2012
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-09-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 23:47:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 51,550
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25134862
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnimationNut/pseuds/AnimationNut
Summary: Charlotte Potter is back for her second year at Hogwarts along with Ron, Hermione and Harry. With a strange house-elf, a monster going around Petrifying students and sinister Slytherins, it's not going to be an easy year.
Relationships: Hermione Granger & Harry Potter & Ron Weasley & Original Female Character(s)
Series: Chosen Girl [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1820644
Comments: 23
Kudos: 42





	1. Dobby the House-Elf

**Author's Note:**

> I do not own Harry Potter. Charlotte Potter is my OC.

Charlotte Potter could say, without a doubt, that her twelfth birthday was by far the worst birthday she’d ever had. And considering that the Dursleys never acknowledged her birthday, this was really saying something.

The young witch was crouched in the grass that she had clipped only an hour ago and gripped the weeds tightly between her hands. With a strong tug she freed the garden from the invasive plant and added it to the pile beside her.

Feeling the persistent ache build in her quads and hamstrings she straightened up to stretch. Her pale blue T-shirt, which was a hand-me-down from her overweight cousin Dudley, was plastered to her thin body with sweat. Her stomach rumbled fiercely with hunger and her throat was dry. She was able to satisfy her thirst, as her aunt had at least allowed her a bottle of water. Food, on the other hand, would have to wait until her work had been completed.

Charlie wasn’t a stranger to doing chores on her birthday. But the sheer amount she had been given for that day had been absolutely exhausting. Her uncle was hosting a dinner party with a potential client and so everything had to be perfect.

Which of course meant Charlie would be forced to hide in her room from suppertime until tomorrow morning. She was the blemish on the Dursleys’ otherwise carefully crafted life.

Charlie finished weeding the front garden and made her way to the backyard. She had tried to explain to Petunia that it didn’t really matter if the back garden was cleaned out, as Vernon’s guests wouldn’t even see it.

Petunia strongly disagreed and she had the bruise on her ear to prove it.

"I hate summer," she said with a weary sigh.

Summer had always been the worst part of the year. There was no school to separate her from her aunt and uncle for seven hours out of the day. She was stuck with them for two months without any reprieve. In previous years she had looked forward to going back to her old Muggle school. At least then she would only have her cousin to contend with.

But now, come September, she would be away from all of them. She would board the train to Hogwarts and be spirited away from the Dursleys for ten months.

But her excitement at this prospect had dwindled as the month wore on and not a single letter had arrived from her best friends. Harry, Ron and Hermione had promised to write to her but nothing had come in. Without an owl to send mail to the wizarding world Charlie tried writing to Hermione, who lived in the Muggle world as well, but she never got a response.

“Not even a birthday card,” she muttered under her breath.

Hard labour helped her forget about her hurt and disappointment. She set about weeding the back garden and peeked occasionally through the window that looked into the kitchen. Petunia was meticulously decorating an elaborate pudding, pastel icing-filled tubes clutched in her hands.

"Do you like your birthday so far?"

_Ah. I wondered where he had gone._

Charlie glanced over her shoulder to see Dudley standing behind her, a smug smirk on his features. “Not particularly.”

Dudley studied the coloured flowers standing proudly in the soil. Charlie carefully reached around them to pull out the weeds and Dudley smiled nastily. “I bet if I pull out all those flowers and blame you, Dad wouldn’t let you eat for a week.”

“You could. But be warned. I just might have to hex you.”

Dudley went very pale at that. Little did her relatives know that she wasn’t to use magic outside of Hogwarts. Not that it mattered, anyway. The word magic and anything related to it was strictly forbidden in the Dursley household. When she returned for the summer, Vernon locked her trunk in the cupboard under the stairs and Charlie had just barely managed smuggle her wand into her room by hiding it in her sleeve.

"You can't!" Dudley cried, backing away in fear. "Dad won't let you!"

Charlie wiggled her fingers. “Uncle Vernon isn’t here right now, is he?”

“Mum!” Dudley howled, racing for the screen door. _“Mum!”_

It wasn’t long before Petunia burst out of the kitchen with fury on her features. Brandishing a wooden spoon at her niece, she demanded, “Did you threaten to hurt Dudley?”

"I was just joking," Charlie said, leaning back slightly as the spoon loomed too close for comfort. "I don't even know any hexes."

"You don't talk like that in this house!" hissed Petunia, sending a frantic glance at neighbouring yards to ensure no one was around to overhear. "If you ever speak like that to Duddikins again Vernon will take care of you.”

"Yes, Aunt Petunia."

The threat didn’t concern her. The most Vernon ever did was give her a swat across the head or bodily throw her out of a room. His preferred punishment was to withhold food and after so many years of this she was accustomed to small portions and spending long periods of time not eating at all.

“Now finish up,” said Petunia crossly.

It took another half an hour for Charlie to finish her work and she lugged the garbage bag full of weeds to the curb. When she reached the metal trash can she froze at the sight of a pair of large green eyes peering at her from overtop the rim.

_What kind of mutated raccoon is that?_

Charlie slowly inched forwards and ripped off the lid. But there was nothing inside and she frowned in confusion. She could have sworn she had seen something.

" _Charlotte!_ "

"I'm losing my mind," she said with a shake of her head. She set the garbage bag into the container and slammed the lid down.

She was about to use the back door but Petunia stopped her before she could get inside. “Don’t you dare dirty my floor!” She tossed a set of clothes at Charlie and she hastily caught them. “Go change in the shed and come right back.”

“Yes, Aunt Petunia,” said Charlie, holding back a sigh.

She completed her task and wrapped the dirt-stained clothes into a tight ball. She took off her mud-encrusted sneakers and clapped them together to get rid of as much filth as she could. Deeming herself clean enough to be let back in Charlie returned to the house.

Petunia gave her a critical once over before asking, “Did you finish the weeding?”

"Yeah, both gardens are done. Anything else?”

"No." Her aunt pointed to a cheese sandwich resting on a plate on the counter. "Hurry up and eat. They’ll be here soon.”

Tucking the sneakers and clothes under one arm and grabbing the sandwich with her free hand, she thanked Petunia for the food before heading for the stairs. She was on the second step when the front door flew open and her large uncle stood framed in the opening.

“Girl!”

She came to a halt and glanced over her shoulder. "Yeah?" she asked around a mouthful of bread and cheese.

Vernon’s face was purple, which indicated his stress was at an all-time high. "You better behave tonight, girl,” he snarled. “You and that cat of yours will stay quiet and out of our sight. If you do _anything_ to ruin this deal for me…”

The threat remained unfinished but Charlie could fill in the blanks. She swallowed her subpar dinner and gave a nod. “I won’t come downstairs, Uncle Vernon. They’ll have no idea there’s a second child living here.”

Vernon levelled Charlie with a glare. “That better be the case. Get upstairs.”

She hurried for her bedroom, opening the door and shutting it quickly before her cat could escape. Snowflake gave her a frustrated glare and a harsh meow. Charlie shushed her. “I know, it sucks. But you know my aunt and uncle don’t like pets. You’re lucky they let you stay here in the first place. _I’m_ lucky they let me stay here.”

Snowy hissed and went to curl up by the window. Charlie sighed. “I’m sorry. But summer will be over and then you’ll have a whole castle to roam.”

As she was setting her dirty clothes in her hamper there was a great popping sound just as the doorbell chimed. Charlie frowned in confusion and squinted up at her ceiling light. But it was still brightly lit, which meant a lightbulb hadn’t burst.

Snowy gave a vicious hiss and Charlie snapped her head towards her bed, where a small creature with the bulging green eyes she had seen only minutes earlier was standing near her bed. Charlie held back a startled shriek and hastily caught her cat as it launched towards the strange creature.

“Stop it!” she snapped at her cat. “I told you, you have to be quiet!”

Snowy bristled, but obeyed her owner and curled back up near the window, sending the creature a suspicious glance.

Charlie eyed the creature nervously. “Hi.”

It beamed at her. "It is a great honour to be meeting Charlotte Potter!"

Charlie rubbed the back of her neck, completely confused. "Uh, thanks. It's really nice to meet you too.”

To her surprise and horror, the creature burst into tears. Charlie hastily clamped a hand over his mouth and shushed him gently. "I'm sorry! I didn't mean to make you cry!"

"Its not that!" he sobbed. "No one has ever said it was nice to meet Dobby before! Never has Dobby been treated so kindly by a wizard or witch like an equal!"

After a moment Dobby's sobs lessened and Charlie removed her hand. "Well then, you've obviously only been in the company of rude wizards and witches."

Dobby nodded. And then immediately afterwards he started to bang his head on her dresser.

_What have I done to deserve this?_

The conversation paused downstairs and she hastily seized Dobby. She listened intently but there were no footsteps heading towards her and she breathed a sigh of relief. Setting Dobby down she asked in bewilderment, “What was that for?”

"Dobby almost spoke ill of his family, Miss. Dobby must not speak ill of them, or he must punish himself!"

"Your family?" Charlie asked.

"Dobby serves a wealthy wizarding family. He serves them and cleans for them."

He was like the wizarding version of a housekeeper. Except Charlie hoped Muggle housekeepers were treated much better than Dobby—and her, for that matter.

"We don’t have to speak about your family. I’m sure you came here for a reason. What can I do for you?”

Dobby’s eyes misted over. “Charlotte Potter, asking what she can do for Dobby. Dobby is here to help Charlotte Potter! Dobby must protect the great and noble witch! Charlotte Potter must not return to Hogwarts!”

“Why not?”

"There is a plot, Miss! Dark plots that'll make terrible things happen at Hogwarts!”

"Who's plotting?" asked Charlie frantically.

Dobby lunged for her lamp but she caught him before he could do any damage. “Okay, okay, sorry,” she said, setting him away from the breakable objects. She was starting to see a pattern. He punished himself every time he wronged his family, whether it be by insult or going against their wishes. "You clearly can’t tell me this plot, right?”

Dobby nodded. Charlie furrowed her brow. "Well, has it anything to do with Voldemort?” Dobby recoiled fiercely and Charlie winced. “You-Know-Who. Does it have anything to do with You-Know-Who?”

Dobby shook his head. Charlie pushed her long raven hair over her shoulders and gave a small smile. “Listen, Dobby, thank you for your concern. But if it’s not You-Know-Who who is behind this plot, I think I’ll be fine.”

“Charlotte Potter will be in danger!” insisted Dobby.

“Professor Dumbledore won’t let anything bad happen to the school or to me.”

"Dumbledore is a powerful wizard, but Dumbledore is a good wizard, and good wizards don’t have powers like…”

Dobby didn’t finish his sentence and leapt across the room. Charlie snatched at him but he avoided her grasp. He grabbed hold of the lamp and slammed it against his head, letting out a loud yelp of pain. The conversation downstairs stopped once more and Dobby got in a few more blows before Charlie managed to wrestle the lamp from his hold.

Charlie could hear Vernon making up an excuse as his heavy footsteps came towards her. “Get in the wardrobe,” she hissed, shoving him towards the furniture piece. “Keep quiet!”

Dobby complied; his ears plastered to his head in shame. Charlie set the lamp on the floor and gripped the edge of her nightstand, holding her foot in the air and appearing as if she had hurt herself.

The door flew open moments later and Vernon hissed furiously, "What are you doing?"

“I’m sorry! I tripped,” said Charlie, rubbing her foot for good measure.

"Sit on that bed and don’t move a muscle!” he snarled.

The door slammed shut and Charlie sunk to the floor with a relieved sigh. Dobby crept out of the wardrobe and Charlie gave him a pointed look. “I have to go back, Dobby. It’s my school now. I can’t miss school. My friends are there. Or at least, I think so. They haven’t written a word to me all summer.”

Dobby shrunk back, his guilty look intensifying and Charlie frowned suspiciously. “What’s wrong, Dobby?”

Dobby nervously removed a bundle of letters from underneath the pillowcase he wore. "Dobby thought if Charlotte Potter believed she was all alone she would not return to Hogwarts.”

Charlie ran her hands down her face. “You can’t take people’s mail, Dobby.”

“Dobby knows. Dobby is very sorry. Dobby was only trying to help.”

“I understand. May I please have them?”

"Only if Miss will say she won’t return to Hogwarts.”

“Dobby, I’m going back. There’s nothing to worry about.”

Dobby gave a solemn shake of his head. “Then Dobby will have to make Charlotte Potter stay.”

He tossed the letters onto her bed and hurried out of the room before Charlie could stop him. With horrified eyes she hastily followed, trying to remain as quiet as possible as she went down the stairs and into the hall.

She froze outside the sitting room, where a large pudding was being levitated over the heads of Vernon’s esteemed guests. She crept frantically across the carpet and lunged forwards.

She missed by a hair and the pudding fell, splattering all over the Masons. They shrieked in shock and horror and sprang to their feet, regarding the pale, raven-haired girl with wide eyes. “Sorry,” Charlie squeaked, well aware of the enraged expressions aimed at her by her aunt and uncle. Dudley, on the other hand, was torn between terror at her apparent display of magic and delight at just how epically she landed herself in trouble.

“I was, uh, just trying to deliver the pudding for you,” Charlie lied, inching her way towards the hallway. “Terrible idea. I’m such a klutz. So sorry.”

She made to dart off but with surprising speed Vernon lurched out of his seat and grabbed her by the arm. “Very clumsy indeed,” he said tightly, and Charlie could practically feel the bruise forming as he squeezed. “I am _so_ sorry.”

“Who is this?” exclaimed Mrs. Mason.

“You never mentioned you had another child,” said Mr. Mason with a sharp frown.

Despite knowing how much trouble she was in, Charlie nearly laughed at the offense forming on the features of her aunt and uncle. “She’s our niece,” said Vernon quickly. “Her parents died so we graciously took her in.”

 _More like grudgingly,_ thought Charlie.

Before the Masons could ask any more questions about the unexpected appearance of another child, an owl suddenly flew through the kitchen window and into the sitting room. It was distracted by Mrs. Mason’s large, colourful hat and landed on the rim. Screaming in fear, the woman ran about the living room trying to dislodge it. Charlie eyed the letter that fell from its talons.

Mr. Mason swatted at the owl, finally shooing it off. With a frosty glare, he bid goodnight as he escorted his hysterical wife out of the house.

Vernon let go of Charlie and grabbed the letter. Charlie stared at him uncertainly and as he finished reading a look that genuinely frightened her crossed his face. He silently handed her the letter and Charlie rapidly scanned the words.

It was a warning from the Improper Use of Magic office of the Ministry of Magic, and it clearly stated that she wasn’t allowed to use magic outside of school due to the fact she was underage.

Charlie paled as Vernon lumbered towards her. "Um…not my fault?"

...

"You've got me in a real mess now, Dobby," Charlie sighed.

It was one night later and Vernon had given her bedroom a renovation. Bars were over her window and they kept her bedroom door locked, effectively imprisoning her. Food was slipped in through a little slot Vernon had installed and she was allowed out a few times a day for bathroom breaks.

"Well, Dobby will be happy. I certainly won't be returning to Hogwarts now. They’re so angry no professor will change their minds." Charlie flopped back on her bed. "I'll be serving life at the Dursley Institution for Abnormal Freaks. At least they feed the inmates."

Even though she wasn’t nearly tired, she closed her eyes and tried to drift off. A knock sounded on her window and she rocketed upwards, thinking maybe it was perhaps another owl.

Peering at her through the iron bars was none other than Ron Weasley.


	2. Break Out

Charlie crept towards the window and stared in disbelief at one of her best friends. "What are you doing?” she whispered.

"We've come to rescue you!" Ron whispered excitedly. Charlie furrowed her brow and craned her neck to peer over Ron’s shoulder. Her jaw fell open when she saw how Ron managed to reach her second-floor window. Ron was standing on the hood of a flying car, which his twin brothers were driving. Fred and George gave a cheerful wave through the windshield.

“Someone is going to see you!”

“It’s dark and we’ll be quick! Fred, hand me the rope!”

Charlie watched as Fred tossed Ron a coil of rope. Ron tied one end to one of the bars and he gave Charlie an earnest grin before climbing back into the car. Charlie’s eyes widened. “Wait!”

George slammed the gas pedal and the car roared into reverse. The iron bars were easily torn from their screws with an ugly screeching sound. Charlie whipped her head over her shoulder, but her uncle’s chainsaw-like snoring echoed throughout the house.

Ron yanked her window open and clambered through. "How come you haven't been answering my letters?" he asked. "I've asked at least six times if you wanted to stay with us. Hermione and Harry said you haven’t been talking to them either.”

"I'll explain later," Charlie assured him. "I’ll be back in a sec.”

"Where are you going?" Ron asked as Charlie went for the door.

"My uncle locked my trunk in the cupboard under the stairs," Charlie explained as she picked her bedroom lock with one of her hairpins. It was one of the most useful tricks she had learned during her years of solitude. "I could have gotten it earlier, but I didn’t want to get in trouble. Silly, really. I always get into trouble with the Dursleys.”

_Even if it’s not my fault._

Charlie swung her bedroom door open and Ron gaped at her. “Fred and George can do that too.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. Would you mind grabbing some clothes and tossing them out to Fred and George? I'll be right back."

She hurried down the stairs and picked the lock on the cupboard. She dragged her trunk along the floor as silently as possible, but it was large and bulky and it was hard to carry by herself. Ron came down to help her a minute later and together they managed to lug the trunk back into her bedroom. 

Fred and George helped load the trunk into the car and Charlie gathered Snowy's cat supplies. Her cat was already safe in her carrier and stowed in the backseat. When everything was packed Ron let out a sigh of relief.

"Finally! We better get out of here— _ouch!_ "

His foot struck her bedpost and his shout echoed throughout the room. Vernon’s snoring cut out and Charlie winced as he gave a furious holler.

_“Girl!”_

“Oh sure, he hears that but not his window practically being ripped off the house,” she grumbled.

Ron nearly hurtled himself into the car and Charlie climbed out the window after him. Her door flew open and Vernon let out a bellow at the sight of his niece making a break for it. He lunged forwards and latched an iron grip on her ankle.

"Floor it!" Fred hollered to his twin as he and Ron tried to haul Charlie into the car.

"You're staying here!" Vernon roared.

"Ten months! You won’t have to see my face for ten months!” Charlie persuaded, holding Ron and Fred’s hands for dear life. “Think of how nice it was! Christmas, Easter, Halloween—all of the holidays without me!”

Vernon froze as an internal battle waged within him. Charlie going away was a good thing for him but she would be going back to the place she loved so much and with all those freaks. But in the end, getting rid of Charlie was always an opportunity that he couldn’t resist.

"I better not see your face until next summer!" he hissed.

“Trust me, you won’t,” she promised.

Vernon let go and Charlie scrambled into the car. The door slammed shut behind her and the car flew into the sky.

"Your relatives really don't like you that much, do they?" Ron asked as he settled in the crowded back seat with Charlie. The girl began packing all of her loose items to ensure nothing would get lost or forgotten.

"No, they don't. But that’s okay.”

"Why were there bars on your window?" Fred asked, turning around to face her with an intent expression.

Charlie explained the whole story; from Dobby's appearance to the letter she received from the Ministry.

Fred scowled. “They put bars on your window because of what a house-elf did?”

“Er, it doesn’t really matter to the Dursleys who caused the trouble,” said Charlie with a shrug. “If it’s magic-related it’s my fault.”

"Danger at Hogwarts," George mused thoughtfully. "I doubt it. House-elves belong to rich wizarding families. I bet Dobby belongs to the Malfoys. It’s the sort of prank that git would find funny.”

The idea that Dobby belonged to the Malfoys wasn’t unbelievable. She thought of Dobby’s strange behaviour and said, "He kept hitting himself every time he directly did something that wronged the family he worked for. Is that something they have to do?”

"Usually, yeah. If a house-elf disobeys their family's orders or does something to displease them, they have to punish themselves," Ron explained. "It's what they've always done."

Charlie frowned. "That's not fair. Is a house-elf bound to their family forever?"

"In most cases, yes. A house-elf serves generation after generation and is only set free if the family gives it a piece of clothing."

Charlie’s shoulders sagged with dismay. Despite the trouble Dobby had caused her, he seemed so unhappy that Charlie wanted to help. But it seemed like that would be difficult, especially if he really did belong to the Malfoy family.

"It makes sense," George commented from the front, his eyes scanning the dark sky as he drove. "I mean, Draco Malfoy's father, Lucius Malfoy, was a big supporter of You-Know-Who. He denied any attachments when he was defeated, of course.”

This piece of information caused Charlie to frown. Dobby had said Voldemort wasn’t responsible for the supposed danger. But maybe one of his followers was planning something.

_Or maybe Dobby just misheard and there’s not going to be any danger at all._

That’s what she was hoping for, at least.

The drive took the rest of the night and Charlie dozed in the backseat. Dawn approached by the time they landed in the front lawn of a very crooked house and Charlie regarded the structure with wide eyes. It was unlike anything she had seen before.

“Your house is so cool!”

Ron beamed with pleasure. “Thanks. It’s nothing special, really, but it is home. Come on, I’ll help you with your trunk.”

“What are the chances we can sneak in without Mum seeing us?” asked George.

The front door slammed open and a furious redheaded woman stormed out onto the grass. Fred shook his head. “Too late. She saw us.”

“What have you lot been up to?” Mrs. Weasley thundered. “Do you know how worried I’ve been? I wake up to find you and the car gone!”

“It’s a long story,” Ron squeaked.

“Get inside and tell it. And it had better be a good one!”

They filed into the house with Charlie’s items and the anger vanished from Mrs. Weasley’s face when she spotted the raven-haired girl. “Charlotte, dear! How lovely to meet you!”

“You too,” said Charlie, surprised when the woman embraced her tightly. “Um, sorry about all this.”

“She really had no idea we were coming,” piped up Ron.

“That I believe,” said Mrs. Weasley with a scoff. “What have you dragged this poor girl into? And what in Merlin’s name do you think you were doing with your father’s car?”

Sitting around the kitchen table with the aroma of eggs and bacon surrounding them, the Weasley boys explained why they had snuck out in the middle of the night. “It’s a good thing we went to her when we did,” said Ron stubbornly. “They put _bars_ on her bedroom window. They weren’t letting her out at all.”

Brow creasing with concern, Mrs. Weasley turned away from her breakfast preparations to peer at Charlie. “Why ever would they do a thing like that?”

Not entirely wanting to explain the pudding incident again Charlie rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. “There was a big magic mix-up. They weren’t happy at all and that was my punishment. But it was only temporary!”

That much Charlie believed. There was no way the Dursleys were going to do all those chores themselves forever. They would have let her out when they got sick of washing the floors.

Mrs. Weasley didn’t seem at all satisfied by this answer but she didn’t press the subject. “Well, you’re here now. That’s what matters.” She shot a glare at her sons, who recoiled slightly. “Though in a completely reckless and irresponsible manner. If you boys were that concerned, you should have told us and we would have checked on her! Do you know you could have lost your father his job?”

“Sorry,” the three boys muttered ashamedly.

Muttering under her breath, Mrs. Weasley set about piling toast, sausages, eggs and bacon onto their plates. A great amount of food was put on Charlie’s plate and she immediately began to munch on a sausage.

“What does your father do?” she asked Ron.

"He works for the Misuse of Muggle Artifacts Office at the Ministry of Magic," Ron explained. "Dad's the head of his office."

"What does that part of the Ministry do?"

"Well, they regulate the use of magic on Muggle objects and try to keep items that have been bewitched away from Muggles. Sometimes he participates in raids to keep Dark objects out of circulation. Dad loves his job. He even wrote a law stating the prohibition of enchanting Muggle items with the intent to use it for purposes other than what it was designed for."

"All of us know that he intended to have a loophole when he wrote that up," added Fred with a grin. "He can play around with all the Muggle items in his shed and not get charged as long as he doesn't intend to use them.”

"But why would wizards want to enchant Muggle items?"

"For a laugh, I suppose. Dad calls it Muggle Baiting."

"After you finish eating, you boys are going to de-gnome the garden,” ordered Mrs. Weasley, setting a pitcher of pumpkin juice in the middle of the table. “Am I understood?”

“Yes, Mum,” they said in resignation.

They went silent as they continued eating. Charlie had finished only a third of her food when she felt her stomach start to protest. Seeing the girl start to slow down, Mrs. Weasley furrowed her brow. “Are you not feeling well?”

“I’m fine!”

Charlie forced herself to eat the rest of her meal. Mrs. Weasley already knew about the bars on her window. She didn’t want her to know that the reason she ate so little was because the Dursleys fed her so little.

A few minutes later Mr. Weasley arrived. His eyes locked on the raven-haired girl sitting amongst his redheaded children and he beamed. “Charlotte Potter! How nice to meet you! I didn’t know you’d be visiting today.”

“It was a surprise visit,” said Mrs. Weasley with narrowed eyes. “Your sons went and got her with that flying car of yours.”

Mr. Weasley winced. “Is that so? Boys, you shouldn’t have done that.”

“Is that all you can say?” shouted Mrs. Weasley furiously.

Ron hastily gulped down the last of his eggs. “Come on, Charlie. Let’s go to the garden.”

The four raced out of the house just before the argument erupted. Charlie wandered around the large yard, peering at everything in awe. There was a sign stuck in the ground that called the house The Burrow and Charlie thought it was very apt.

An odd squealing sound caught her attention and Charlie peeked over her shoulder. Her eyes grew wide as she stared at the short, leathery-skinned creature Ron pulled out of a bush. "Those are not garden gnomes.”

"Not the ones you’re used to," Ron said with a laugh as he swung it around in a circle before launching it into the air. “It's what you're supposed to do!" Ron said quickly when he noticed Charlie's horrified expression.

"Isn't there a _gentle_ way to get rid of them?" she asked.

"Nope. This is the best—and fun—way to get rid of garden gnomes," said George cheerfully. "I'm just glad Mum didn't try to give us tips from Lockhart's book."

“She probably would have if Dad didn’t come home just then,” snickered Fred.

"Lockhart?" Charlie asked in confusion.

"Gilderoy Lockhart is this famous guy who has written a ton of books,” Ron explained. "But it’s all rubbish.”

"Don't let Mum hear you say that," warned George. "As far as she’s concerned that man has now written law about how to take care of garden and house pests.”

Charlie helped the boys clear out the garden gnomes, feeling slightly bad for having to make them dizzy and then chuck them as far as she could. “Are you sure this doesn’t hurt them?”

“Absolutely not,” said Ron. He wrinkled his nose and added, “They’ll be back soon enough, anyway. Dad lets them stay. He likes them a lot.”

An hour later the garden was completely gnome-free. The constant spinning just after ingesting so much food caused Charlie’s stomach to twist viciously. Nausea rose in her throat and her face turned green. As the boys started back for the house Charlie lingered behind, one hand pressed against her stomach.

_I should not have eaten that last batch of eggs._

Unable to hold it back, she sunk to her knees and hacked into the grass. Alerted by her retching, Ron sprinted to her side. “Charlie! Are you okay?”

"We'll get Mum," said Fred immediately.

Charlie tried to protest, but the bile caused her to choke on her words and duck her head further down. Mrs. Weasley was outside a minute later with a vial in her hand. Crouching next to the girl’s side, Mrs. Weasley rubbed soothing circles into her back until Charlie finished.

"I thought you said you weren’t ill?” she scolded, helping Charlie back to her feet.

“I’m not!” said Charlie quickly. “I think it was all the spinning.”

Mrs. Weasley handed Charlie the vial, which the girl drank in one gulp. “This Stomach Soother will help you to feel better. Are you _sure_ you’re not sick?”

Ron frowned at her. “You didn’t really do that much spinning.”

"Well, maybe it was a combination of spinning and the amount of food that I ate,” said Charlie evasively. “But I’m fine, really. Thank you.”

Ron gave a nod. “That makes sense. It was a lot of food for you. You probably ate more here than you did your entire first year at Hogwarts. Besides the holidays, of course. You always ate a lot of sweets.”

_My stomach paid for it then, too._

But Charlie wished Ron hadn’t said anything and this information caused Mrs. Weasley’s maternal instincts to go on high alert. “Come on, dear. You should have a bit of a rest.”

She brought Charlie inside the house and set her up in an armchair. A blanket was draped over the girl and Fred, George and Ron crowded around with concerned looks. Charlie gave a sheepish smile. “Thank you. Sorry for the trouble.”

"It's no trouble at all," said Mrs. Weasley. She folded Charlie’s hand into her own and said seriously, “Is Ron right? Are you really not used to eating that much?”

_Dang it._

“Well, it’s certainly more food than I usually eat,” said Charlie carefully.

Fred arched an eyebrow. What the girl had eaten for breakfast was what he considered a normal portion. If she wasn’t ill, it certainly shouldn’t have caused her to be so sick. "Seriously? What, don't the Dursleys feed you?"

“Of course they do!”

But she had said it too quickly and with a defensive tone. Fred immediately lost his humour and Charlie flinched. She ducked her eyes down and mentally berated herself. She was usually very good at covering up the worst of her relatives’ treatment.

“They do feed you, don’t they?” George asked darkly.

Mrs. Weasley’s grip increased and Charlie raised her chin. As she stared into their eyes, full of care and worry and anger for _her_ , she found she could not lie to them.

"Most days," she said reluctantly. "And not so much other days.”

"They _starve_ you?" asked Ron in horror. "You never told me this!"

“It’s not really something I wanted anyone to know. Besides, it’s not that big of a deal.”

"It's a very big deal!" said Mrs. Weasley sharply. There was a storm in her eyes and she straightened. “Don’t you worry, Charlotte. I’ll take care of this.”

“You don’t have—” began Charlie frantically, but it did no good. Mrs. Weasley walked out of the room, leaving her sons to regard Charlie with sad expressions. Charlie felt her cheeks turn red with humiliation and she tucked the blanket against her chin.

“Are you feeling better?” asked Ron hesitantly.

Charlie gave a nod. George clapped Ron on the shoulder and said, “Come on, Ron. Let her have some rest.”

“But—”

George gave him a pointed look and Ron gave a sigh. “I’ll be back later, okay Charlie? And then we can owl Hermione and Harry together and let them know you’re all right.”

Charlie was left alone in the sitting room and she closed her eyes against the swell of worry and nervousness. She didn’t know what Mrs. Weasley was going to do but she hoped she didn’t go directly to the Dursleys herself. _That_ would not end well.

She spotted something out of the corner of her eye and turned to meet a pair of brown eyes peeking at her from around the doorframe. “Hi,” Charlie said with a soft smile.

Ron’s little sister entered the room and approached her. "I'm Ginny," she introduced softly. “It’s nice to meet you, Charlotte. Ron has been talking about you all summer.”

“It’s nice to meet you too, Ginny. You can call me Charlie, if you want.”

"It depends whether or not my older brother is in the same room," said Ginny with a giggle.

“That’s fair. You’ll be going to Hogwarts this year, right?”

She bounced on her toes eagerly. "Oh yes! I've been waiting forever to go to school! I can't wait to get my wand and I'm really excited to get Sorted. I know I'll be in Gryffindor but I still can't wait."

"You'll make a great addition to Gryffindor,” said Charlie sincerely.

Ginny beamed. "Thanks! I hope so. What's it like being a Ravenclaw?"

"Oh, it’s great. Everyone is very nice, and we’re all curious, and there’s always someone willing to answer my questions.”

"Ron says that you hardly need to ask questions.” Ginny tilted her head to the side. “He thinks you and Hermione are the brightest witches in the whole school. He doesn’t need to worry about his homework when he can copy off yours.”

"I heard my name. Is she telling stories about me?"

The redhead returned to the room and cast a frown at his sister. Ginny stuck her tongue out at him. Charlie smiled. “She said you think Hermione and I are bright and you like copying our homework.”

"Oh. Well, that's a true story. Ginny, Charlie wants to be left alone so she can rest.”

“I’m okay now, actually,” said Charlie quickly, shrugging off the blanket.

“Good! Get lost, Ginny.”

Ginny crossed her arms. "Why?” she demanded.

"I want to hang out with my best friend. Not my little sister.”

Ginny gave an offended huff and punched him lightly in the side before skipping off. As Ron gave a soft wheeze Charlie said wistfully, “Must be nice to have siblings.”

"It’s a pain in the arse,” said Ron, though there was no heat in his words and his eyes glinted with fond exasperation. “Can’t do anything to Ginny because she’s the baby. It gets pretty rough with the rest of us, especially with the twins.”

“Er, sorry about earlier,” muttered Charlie. “I didn’t mean to make a fuss.”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Ron. He patted Charlie’s shoulder and said, “Mum will take care of everything. Those horrible relatives of yours won’t ever starve you again.”

It was meant to be reassuring and Charlie appreciated his effort, even if his words had the opposite effect. Ignoring the tightening knot of anxiety in her stomach Charlie asked, “Do you think we could owl Harry and Hermione now?”

Ron brightened. “Speaking of Harry, I have great news! Dad asked Mr. Lupin if Harry could spend the rest of the holidays with us and he said yes!”

“I can’t wait to see him again,” said Charlie happily. “Though I hope he forgives me for the stress I put him through this past year.”

“Sure he does,” said Ron immediately. “He was really worried when you weren’t writing back to him. Hermione, too.”

Ron snagged her hand and together they went in search of his family’s owl. Warmth surged through Charlie’s chest, a delight at being back in the world that she loved so much.


	3. Floo Mishap

"You won't believe what I've just heard!" McGonagall exclaimed as she entered Dumbledore's office. The old wizard looked at her curiously as she set herself into one of the chairs opposite his desk.

"What have you just heard?" Dumbledore asked, setting the new student roster aside and peering at his Deputy Headmistress.

"Molly just contacted me to say that Charlotte Potter is at her place."

Dumbledore’s eyes widened in surprise. “I wasn’t aware the Weasleys were picking her up from the Dursleys.”

“The Weasleys weren’t aware either,” said McGonagall with a tight frown. “The twins and Ronald took Arthur's enchanted car and went to pick her up. Apparently, Charlotte hadn’t been answering any of their letters and they wanted to check on her.”

Dumbledore’s brow furrowed. “I am glad they made the journey safely. But I hope that’s the last of their exploits with Arthur’s little project.”

"While their actions were foolhardy and rash, I’m glad they got to her when they did,” said McGonagall coldly.

There was a grim expression on her face that caused Dumbledore a great amount of worry. “What happened?”

“Molly discovered that those horrible Muggle relatives of Charlotte’s starve her as punishment. That’s why she’s as thin as she is! They never fed her properly! When Molly tried to feed her breakfast, the poor girl threw it back up.”

Through the early years of Charlie’s youth Dumbledore had left Arabella Figg, her neighbour across the street, to watch over her and deliver reports. She often looked after Charlie when her aunt and uncle were out. But not once had Arabella ever told him about such a drastic and cruel punishment enforced on the child. With a sad and heavy heart, Dumbledore wondered just how much Charlie hid about how her relatives treated her.

“I did not know.”

"I know you didn’t,” said McGonagall, softening slightly. “We are all to blame. None of us realized just how little she ate during mealtimes. She was always so happy and cheerful and never complained. I suspect she wouldn’t have said anything at all if this hadn’t happened.”

"I will speak with the Dursleys immediately,” Dumbledore said solemnly. The twinkle in his blue eyes was gone. He felt a great amount of guilt, especially when he knew that he would have to continue to leave Charlie in their care, so that the blood wards would continue to offer her the utmost protection. But though he could not eliminate them of their prejudice, he would make sure they knew exactly what he would do if they ever stripped her of nutrition and basic needs again. "I'll also have Madam Pomfrey examine her when she arrives.”

McGonagall nodded in satisfaction. The guilt flashing in her eyes reflected Dumbledore’s. "I can’t believe we let this go unnoticed. And her Muggle teachers in previous years…no one knew.”

"It seems Charlotte took great care to ensure she kept it to herself. But we should have been paying closer attention. It will happen no more."

McGonagall gave a nod. She noticed a high stack of envelopes towering on his desk. "Are those the student school supply letters?"

“Final grades, actually. I’m afraid I forgot to send them out yesterday.”

" _Albus!_ "

...

"Ron, Charlotte! Harry is here!"

The two preteens hurried downstairs, where they found their lanky Hufflepuff friend waiting for them. Charlie tackled him in a hug, nearly knocking his thick-framed glasses from his face. "It's so good to see you!"

"Hey, mate." Ron smiled, clapping him on the back. "I'm glad you could come."

"Me too," agreed Harry. "I was starting to get bored."

"We can fix that. Let’s play Quidditch," said Ron enthusiastically. “After we bring your stuff to my room.”

The three went inside to wrangle Harry’s trunk into Ron’s bedroom and collect their brooms. They headed back outside to practice some Quidditch moves. After a bit Charlie let Ron borrow her Nimbus Two Thousand.

Harry came to hover beside Charlie as she watched Ron loop about. She peered at his broomstick, which still had a glossy shine. "That looks new. Did your uncle buy it for you?"

"Uh-huh. There’s going to be two spots on the Hufflepuff Quidditch team.”

"Chaser, right? That’s what you said last year.”

"Yeah. They also need a Beater, but I’m not really interested in that.”

Ron finally settled near them, his toes brushing the tips of the grass. “Did you tell him about Dobby yet?”

"Dobby?" echoed Harry, puzzled.

Charlie explained the pudding incident and Harry’s face twisted with distaste. “That doesn’t sound terrifying at all,” he said sarcastically.

Charlie shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe he belongs to the Malfoys, maybe he doesn’t.”

“Do you think there’s a dangerous plot?”

“I don’t know,” she repeated. “Dobby seemed worried. I guess I’ll just have to keep alert.” She reached a hand up to absently rub at her scar. “Hopefully it’s nothing.”

“No use worrying,” said Ron. “Come on, let’s pass the Quaffle around.”

After a few hours of Quidditch practice they were about to go inside for dinner when they were distracted by a swarm of owls that swooped towards them. Three of them approached Charlie, Ron and Harry as the others flew inside The Burrow. The three kids accepted the envelopes that were held out to them. They each received two envelopes; one thick and one small.

"I bet Hermione tackled the poor bird that delivered hers,” snickered Ron.

Charlie laughed and they trooped inside. They put their brooms away before sitting at the table, where the rest of the Weasleys were already gathered, platters of steaming food spread out across the wooden surface.

Mrs. Weasley set a plate of garlic toast by Ron’s elbow. “How are your marks?” she directed at Ron.

“We just got them!”

“Well, go on, then. Percy got twelve O.W.L.s.”

She sent Percy a beaming smile and he blushed in pleasure. “Thank you, Mother. But it was nothing.”

Ron cast a glance around the table, seeing discarded envelopes and folded up parchments. “Well, you lot didn’t waste any time.”

“Mum was very excited,” deadpanned Fred.

“What do owls have to do with grades?” asked Charlie curiously.

"Ordinary Wizarding Levels," explained Ron. "They're exams we have to take in fifth year. They're way more important than our regular exams."

Mrs. Weasley looked at her youngest son in disapproval. "All exams are important, young man. You better not have one D."

Ron winced and fingered his envelope nervously.

"She really means it," Fred muttered as he helped himself to some stew. "George and I got a D in Potions and she already banned us from flying for the rest of the summer."

Charlie opened up her envelope and removed a piece of parchment. She regarded her grades with confusion.

 **Astronomy:** E  
 **Charms:** O  
 **Defense Against the Dark Arts:** O  
 **Flying:** O  
 **Herbology:** E  
 **History of Magic:** E  
 **Potions:** E  
 **Transfiguration:** O

_Definitely not the letters I’m used to._

“What do these mean?” she asked.

Ron leaned over and peeked at her grades. "The O stands for Outstanding and the E stands for Exceeds Expectations. They’re the two best marks you can get. If these were the results of your Ordinary Wizarding Levels, you’d have eight O.W.L.s.”

Harry dug out his grades and quickly scanned them.

 **Astronomy:** A  
 **Charms:** O  
 **Defense Against the Dark Arts:** A  
 **Flying:** E  
 **Herbology:** A  
 **History of Magic:** A  
 **Potions:** A  
 **Transfiguration:** O

This would definitely please his uncle. Harry had expected to do much worse, but he supposed there had been some benefit to spending time with two Ravenclaws. "I was positive I would get a T in Potions."

"What does that stand for?” asked Charlie.

"T stands for Troll, which is a grade you will never see in your life. See, Harry got a bunch of As and that stands for Acceptable,” explained Ron.

_Not the same as a Muggle A._

“How’d you do, Ron?” asked Harry.

"No more stalling," Mrs. Weasley ordered. Ron's siblings were staring at him in amusement and the boy turned red. He reluctantly peeled open the envelope and took out his report card. He took one look and his shoulders slumped.

"Poor bloke failed everything," Fred said with a sigh.

"We'll start digging his grave now and we can have the funeral done by midnight," George promised.

“I didn’t fail anything,” said Ron in relief, turning the parchment around to show them.

 **Astronomy:** A **  
Charms:** E  
 **Defense Against the Dark Arts:** A  
 **Flying:** E  
 **Herbology:** A  
 **History of Magic:** A  
 **Potions:** A  
 **Transfiguration:** E

"Well done Ron!" Percy congratulated him. "Glad to see the twins haven't influenced you."

Fred and George scowled at him.

"I see spending most of your time studying with Hermione and I paid off," Charlie teased.

Ron rolled his blue eyes but smirked. As they ate, they checked out their school supply list for the year. Fred let out a loud groan as he read over the books. “They’re all by Lockhart! I can already tell the DADA teacher is going to be rubbish.”

"Enough of that,” said Mrs. Weasley sharply.

"His books are really expensive," George said nervously.

"We'll manage," Mrs. Weasley said, though she looked uncertain. “Now eat up. The food is getting cold.”

They spent a few minutes devouring the warm and delicious food. Mrs. Weasley watched as Charlie put some food on her plate, which was only a few small chunks of roast and half a bowl of soup. Ginny sneakily added a couple pieces of garlic toast when Charlie wasn’t looking.

"Finally!" Ron exclaimed suddenly. He rushed over and yanked the window open. An ancient grey owl flew in and collapsed into his awaiting arms. "You took your sweet time, didn't you Errol?" Errol hooted in exhaustion and Ron placed him in his cage. "It’s from Hermione,” he called over his shoulder.

Charlie and Harry quickly went to his side so that they could read her letter.

_Dear Ron, Charlie and Harry,_

_Ronald, that was terribly irresponsible of you to rescue Charlie using a flying car! You might have gotten your father in serious trouble and you could have been hurt! But I am glad Charlie is away from those horrible relatives of hers._

_I just got my report card and I got all Os! I'm very pleased, and I'm sure you all did brilliantly as well._

_My parents are taking me to Diagon Alley next Wednesday morning. I hope you three can meet me there. We can talk more about Dobby then._

_Please send a response, although I'd use a different owl if I were you. I don't think this one can make another delivery._

_Love,_

_Hermione_

"Mum! Can we go to Diagon Alley next Wednesday morning? That’s when Hermione is going.”

Mrs. Weasley gave a nod. "That's fine, dear."

Ron grinned. "All right!"

Retrieving a quill and piece of parchment, he scribbled back his response. "I asked if she could come stay with us as well," he said as he wrote, "but her parents wanted her home." He finished writing and stuck the parchment into an envelope. "Percy! Can we borrow Hermes? There’s no way Errol can make another round-trip.”

Percy looked like he was about to refuse but Mrs. Weasley sent him a narrow-eyed glare. “If you must,” he said with a sigh.

"After you send that letter, come right back to the table,” ordered Mrs. Weasley. “You haven’t eaten nearly enough! Charlotte, dear, I’d like you to finish your plate if you can.”

“Don’t worry,” Ron whispered to her. “She’ll have you used to eating proper meals in no time.”

...

Wednesday arrived and the Weasley clan gathered in front of the fireplace. Charlie stared blankly at the flowerpot Mrs. Weasley held as Ron instructed her on the Floo Network and the use of Floo powder. "You have to speak clearly or else you’ll end up somewhere you don’t want to be.”

"Okay,” said Charlie uncertainly.

Taking some powder offered to her by Mrs. Weasley, she tossed it into the fire. The flames turned emerald green and she hesitantly stepped into it. Soot rose into her nostrils and she coughed, managing to choke out, "Diagonlly!"

_Ooh. That wasn't very clear._

She was immediately sucked up into darkness. She resisted the urge to close her eyes and kept as still as possible. After what seemed like an eternity the fire spat her out and she sprawled out across a grimy stone floor. “That was terrible,” she rasped.

Charlie wiped the soot from her eyes and climbed to her feet. She peeked through the dust-streaked window and was greeted by a bleak alley, not at all the bright and cheerful one she knew. "Fantastic," she muttered.

Here she was, who-knows-where, in a shop with a bunch of scary-looking objects and artifacts and covered in soot. There was no one in the shop, to her relief, and she headed for the door. Just as she reached for the doorknob a familiar voice whined from the other side, "But I want to go look at the brooms!"

_Oh, no._

She spun around and spotted a narrow space between a large wardrobe and the wall it was next to. She hurried towards it and crawled into the space, her arms and legs pressed tightly against her body. She stopped her wiggling once the door opened.

 _Please don't find me,_ she begged silently.

As the tall, blonde-haired man ventured towards the counter, Draco lingered by the door, casting an uneasy glance at the strange items in the shop. "Father, when are we going to get my racing broom?"

"Later," the man snapped. "Now don't touch anything."

"I'm certain to get on the House team now." Draco smirked. "Pansy might even hex Potter in the air for me during a match."

_Thanks for the warning, Draco. I’ll be sure to keep an eye out._

"How many times must I tell you? It isn't wise to appear less than fond of that girl when everyone else considers her a savoir."

It was then a stooping man with greasy hair came out from the back of the shop. "Will you be buying or selling today, Lucius?"

"Selling," he answered curtly and handed him a list. "The Ministry has been doing more raids. I'd be mortified if they came to pay me a visit and discovered some of the items I have. I may be highly respected in that place, but the Ministry's getting more meddlesome. No thanks to filth like Arthur Weasley.”

Charlie bristled at that. _I see where Draco gets it from._

It took a while, but eventually Mr. Malfoy finished with his business and they left the shop. Charlie waited until the shopkeeper returned to the back room before moving out of her hiding spot. "Ow…that was a tight fit,” she muttered, wincing at the ache in her joints.

She rushed out of the shop and speed-walked down the seedy-looking alley, her eyes darting back and forth warily. She had no idea where she was.

_Well. Now what?_

A hand suddenly grabbed her by the shoulder. Charlie screamed and whirled around, her panic immediately fading at the familiar hulking figure that stood behind her.

"Hagrid!"

"What do yeh think yer doin' here?" he demanded.

"I’m supposed to be in Diagon Alley with the Weasleys. I tried to get to Diagon Alley by Floo. Clearly I didn’t do it right.”

Hagrid steered her out of the alley and Charlie was relieved to be engulfed by the brightness and the hustle-and-bustle of Diagon Alley. He brushed the soot from her clothing as he spoke. "Yer a mess! Bad luck, teh be sent teh Knockturn Alley. Good thing I found yeh.”

"What were you doing there?”

"Gettin' some Flesh-Eatin' Slug Repellent. School cabbages are bein' ruined. C'mon, we better go find the Weasleys."

It wasn’t long before they found Mr. Weasley, the four Weasley boys and Harry. Ron took in her appearance and arched an eyebrow. "What happened to you?"

"I went to Knockturn Alley," Charlie answered, attempting to shake the soot from her hair.

"Brilliant!" Fred and George exclaimed.

"It's not a place fer yeh boys," Hagrid growled.

“Quite right,” agreed Mr. Weasley, shooting Fred and George a warning look. “So don’t even think about it.”

Mrs. Weasley and Ginny arrived a minute later and Mrs. Weasley immediately began to fuss over Charlie’s dirty clothes.

"You poor dear! I knew once you'd gone through that you'd end up somewhere else."

“Could have been worse,” said Fred positively. “She only landed in Knockturn Alley. Not somewhere dreadfully far.”

Mrs. Weasley gasped. “Knockturn Alley! Oh, thank you Hagrid, for finding her! Who knows what could have happened to her?”

“No trouble! I ought teh be finishin’ my errands. See yeh at Hogwarts, yeh lot!”

They bid Hagrid goodbye and went to Gringotts, where they found Hermione on the front steps. She gave a squeal upon spotting them and tackled them in a hug. “I’m so happy to see you!”

"No, you're not. You just want to know what our grades are," said Harry jokingly.

Hermione smiled sheepishly. "I might be curious, yes."

They each took turns informing her of their final grades and Hermione beamed at all of them.

"I knew you would do great, Charlie. Harry, Ron, I’m proud of you both! Though I know you can do better. I’ll help you raise your grades. Professor Snape in particular will be very surprised when you get Os this year."

Ron snorted. "Yeah, considering that the only people in my family to have gotten anything above an A in his class are Percy and Bill, I don't think that's possible."

"I've discovered that in order to take his class past the fifth year you need to have an Outstanding," Hermione informed them.

Charlie shook her head. Even though Hermione was a Muggle like her, she knew much more about Hogwarts and the wizarding world. Harry stared at Hermione in disbelief. "You mean you want to take Potions all the way through?"

"Of course! It's a good skill to have." It was then Hermione took a good look at Charlie's appearance. "Oh! What happened to you?"

Charlie told her about how she ended up at Knockturn Alley and her near-encounter with Draco and his father. Ron looked at her in interest. "You saw him in Borgin and Burkes? Did he buy anything?"

"No, he was selling."

Ron seemed to be satisfied by that. "Dad will be pleased. That means Mr. Malfoy is nervous. Dad really wants to nail him for something but Mum doesn't want him to mess with the Malfoys."

They ended their conversation when Mrs. Weasley and Mr. Weasley approached them. Harry stayed behind with Hermione and her parents, not needing to take out any money. They went into the bank, handed over their respective keys, and piled into the cart.

"I hate that thing!" she rasped when it came to a stop in front of her vault.

She quickly scooped some coins into her pouch and hurried back to the cart. They made one more stop at the Weasley vault, which contained only a few piles of coins. Charlie felt a strong surge of guilt and wished she could offer to help, but she knew the Weasleys wouldn’t accept it.

They exited Gringotts and Hermione promised to meet her parents at Flourish and Blotts in an hour’s time. Harry, Ron, Charlie and Hermione were allowed to wander off and once they were alone, Hermione began to rant about what she had learned about house-elves.

"Did you know that house-elves don't get paid for what they do? They don't get holidays either! And they have to punish themselves if they do something wrong!"

"It's how it's always been," Ron explained. "The majority of the house-elves like what they do, no matter the treatment they receive. It's all they've known. But not all families mistreat their house-elves."

Hermione frowned. “But—”

“I think Ron knows best about this one, Hermione,” said Charlie gently.

Hermione let out huff but did not continue to press the matter.

"Well, where should we go first?" Harry asked.

"I suppose we ought to stock up on potion supplies and get some more ink and parchment," Charlie said.

They stopped by the Apothecary first and then went to buy some new ink and parchment. Ron studied the glossy boxes of quills with longing and Charlie grabbed an extra one for him. He tried to protest, but she insisted, and gratitude gleamed in his eyes. Their next stop was to get new school robes for everyone but Charlie, since she was the same size as last year.

Their hour ended and they approached Flourish and Blotts. Hermione let out a shrill shriek that caused the three of them to jump a foot in the air.

"What's wrong?" Harry cried, whirling about.

Hermione pointed at a large, sparkling banner hanging above the store in excitement. "Gilderoy Lockhart is here! Oh, we can meet him! Come on, let's go!"

"Oh no," Harry and Ron moaned in unison. "She's a fan!"

The kids entered the shop and Ron whistled upon seeing the long line of people. He then turned red with embarrassment when he spotted his mother among those in line.

"You've got to be joking," he muttered.

The photographer that had been snapping pictures of Lockhart paused upon spotting the raven-haired girl. "Charlotte Potter!" he exclaimed excitedly.

Lockhart glanced up and positively beamed, flashing a row of perfect teeth. "It _is_ Charlotte Potter! Well now, come on up, no need to be shy!"

With the dozens of stares now aimed at her Charlie felt compelled to join him. The second she was near Lockhart he grabbed her hand in a strong grip and the photographer started to take pictures at a rapid speed. When he finished Lockhart let go and Charlie flexed her fingers, trying to work out the numbness.

"This is a wonderful moment for all of us!" Lockhart said joyfully. "Charlotte, I’m sure you’re here to collect your textbooks. But I will be more than happy to supply you a set free of cost! And I have grand news—I will be your new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher!”

The crowd cheered and Hermione looked ready to pass out from pure delight. Ron, Harry and the twins looked horrified. With an inward grimace and an outward smile, Charlie said, "That's great, sir! And it's very generous of you to give me my school books for free. But it’s really not necessary."

"Nonsense! I insist!” Lockhart smiled charmingly at her and someone shoved a pile of glossy textbooks into her arms.

“Thank you,” said Charlie. “I really must go gather the rest of my supplies.”

“Of course! I’ll see you at Hogwarts, Charlotte.”

Lockhart turned back to his adoring crowd and Charlie went over to Ginny. When no one was looking she put the books into her cauldron and the girl looked at her in surprise. “I’d rather buy my own. But there’s no reason why they should go to waste.”

Ginny beamed gratefully at her. “Thank you!”

"That was quite a show, Potter!"

Charlie groaned as the voice of Pansy Parkinson reached her. _Great. And where there’s Pansy there’s usually—_

"I think I can practically see your head inflate.”

_Draco. Wonder where they met up._

Ron and Harry were quick to come to her side. "Leave her alone!" snapped Ron.

Pansy sneered at him. "I hope you’re ready for the streets, Weasley. Your family is going to be bankrupt after buying four sets of Lockhart’s books. It’s a shame he didn’t give Potter more for her to hand out.”

Ron and Ginny turned bright red. Seeing the confrontation, Mr. Weasley came over to them, his expression stiff at the sight of the two Slytherins, and he began to usher them away.

But then Lucius Malfoy made his appearance.

Mr. Weasley, Charlie learned, could handle slights against his financial status and his position as a traitor in the eyes of pure-bloods. But he would not stand for insults against his family. He lunged at Lucius and knocked into Ginny's cauldron. It toppled over and her books went sailing across the floor. Harry immediately started to pick them up and Charlie dropped to her knees to help. She darted her gaze from the floor to the fighting adults. Before she could worry too much about Lucius casting a spell at Mr. Weasley, Hagrid appeared seemingly out of nowhere and separated the two.

Sneering at them with malice, Lucius disdainfully picked up one of Ginny’s second-hand textbooks and dropped it into her cauldron. “Take better care of your possessions, girl. Your father can’t afford to give you any replacements.”

He left the shop with Draco and Pansy in tow. Under the scrutiny of everyone in the store, the kids kept their heads down as they quickly gathered the rest of their books. To Mrs. Weasley’s mortification, the shop assistant waved them away when they approached the counter, simply wanting them gone.

Everyone was subdued as Hagrid escorted them back to the pub. Mr. Weasley apologized profusely to the Grangers, and after a round of goodbyes, they and Hermione left to catch their bus. The rest used the pub’s fireplace to return home and Charlie took extra care not to mess it up this time.

When Harry was expelled into The Burrow on his turn, he collided into Ginny upon exiting, causing all of their books to spill out over the floor. “Sorry! I’m sorry!” he cried.

“It’s okay!” said Ginny quickly, not minding having her possessions scattered for the second time that day. “I didn’t move out of the way fast enough.”

The pair collected their books and retreated to their rooms. For the duration of his visit Harry was rooming with Ron and he set his stack of books near his trunk. As he was flipping through them, he discovered a small black book sticking out amongst the Lockhart textbooks. He flipped it open, finding only blank pages.

“Huh. Weird.”

He shrugged and set it on top of his pile. He wasn’t sure where it came from, but there was nothing wrong with having a spare journal.


	4. The Flying Car

The morning of their departure for Hogwarts found the Weasley family in a state of chaos. As Mrs. Weasley put breakfast together, she yelled out items off her mental checklist and each of the children either confirmed or scrambled to find what they were missing.

“Where’s Charlotte?” she demanded as Ron hurried into the kitchen.

Distracted from his search for Scabbers Ron furrowed his brow. “Er, I don’t know, actually.”

“Go find her and make sure she’s ready!”

Ron jogged upstairs and knocked on Ginny’s bedroom door. There was no response and he cautiously eased the door open. Nestled in a cot at the end of Ginny’s bed was a slumbering Charlie. “Charlie, wake up!” he cried, snagging a pillow off Ginny’s bed and whacking her with it.

Charlie yipped and shot upwards, green eyes blurry with sleep. “I’m awake! What’s wrong?”

“You slept in and we’re all running late! If we don’t hurry, we’re going to miss the train!”

She fumbled out of her blankets and got to her feet. “I’ll be down soon!”

Ron left and Charlie jerked open the lid of her trunk. She frantically scanned the items inside to ensure she had everything she needed before lugging it down the stairs. She encountered Harry at the bottom, a piece of toast in his hand, and he raised an eyebrow.

“I think you might want to get dressed.”

Charlie glanced down at herself and her cheeks reddened. She was still wearing a pair of Dudley’s old, worn-out pajamas. “Right.”

She dragged her trunk to the front door and yanked out a random set of clothes. She took the steps two at a time and changed hurriedly. As she ran back downstairs, she slammed into Ron in her haste and they sprawled out on the floor with dazed groans.

"You have a bad habit of running into me," he wheezed.

“It’s only happened twice, I think. Not really a habit.”

“Have you seen Scabbers?”

“No, sorry. But I can help you find him.”

She shoved her pajamas into her trunk before joining Ron on his search. They prowled through the house, peeking under armchairs and bookshelves and cabinets. A shout sounded from upstairs and Harry called, “Charlie! Your cat is trying to eat Ron’s rat!”

Charlie’s eyes widened and sprinted back to Ginny’s bedroom. A stitch was developing in her side from how many times she’s traversed up and down the steps. “No!” she yelped when she found her cat pawing underneath the dresser. “Bad Snowflake! You don’t eat Ron’s pet!”

She hoisted the cat into her arms and Harry flattened himself to the floor. Ron entered to see Harry luring Scabbers out with a small piece of his toast. Ron took him into his hands and Charlie flinched, holding her hissing cat close to her chest.

“Sorry! I’ll keep her in her cage until we get to Hogwarts.”

"That would be nice,” said Ron, aiming a sour glare at the cat.

Snowy was not at all happy when Charlie put her in her carrier and Charlie flinched at the light scratch she received on the back of her hand. “Stop that! You can’t eat other people’s pets! It’s not nice.”

Seeing that there were no other trunks by the door Charlie peeked outside and found them scattered across the lawn. She added her trunk to the collection and set the cat carrier on top. Snowy glowered at her and Charlie promised, “I’ll give you a treat when we get to Hogwarts.” She noticed Fred and George’s broomsticks were resting against their trunks and cried, “My broomstick!”

"Charlotte! Have you eaten yet?"

Mrs. Weasley stood in the open doorway, a plate of buttered toast and sausages and a glass of milk in her hand. "Not yet,” said Charlie distractedly, keeping her beloved broomstick in her thoughts so she wouldn’t forget it again. “But I’m not really hungry.”

"You need to eat," insisted Mrs. Weasley. "You have a long trip ahead of you!"

The expression on her face made it clear that she wasn’t allowed to refuse. “Okay, but I just have to grab my broomstick and I’ll be right there.”

“Hurry, dear. We really must get going.”

After Charlie retrieved her broomstick and put it with the rest of her items, she went into the kitchen to eat her breakfast. Percy lumbered in a moment later with his owl perched regally on his shoulder. "Mum!” he snapped. “Fred and George stole my prefect badge!"

 _“Fred! George!”_ Mrs. Weasley bellowed, her fierce tone causing Charlie to jump. _“You return Percy’s badge this instant! Do you hear me?”_

“Yes Mum!” the twins called, their voices drifting from upstairs.

Percy gave a satisfied smirk and went to collect his prized possession. Charlie finished her breakfast and entered the front hall to wait for the others. She watched in amusement as the rest of Weasleys and Harry continued their mad dash of collecting stray items, hollering and shouting as they went.

“We need to leave _now_!” Mr. Weasley called, poking his head through the door. Spotting Charlie waiting he said, “Charlotte, do you think you can help me load the trunks?”

“Sure!”

Together they put the trunks in the magically-enchanted boot of the Ford Anglia. Everyone else streamed outside a few minutes later and piled into the car. Charlie settled back against her seat and readied for the drive to the station.

They didn't get far.

Fred, George, Ginny and Harry had forgotten at least one item each and they were forced to turn around. With a scowl on his features Percy snapped, “How could you lot manage to forget things after all that time you spent running around the house?”

“That’s the problem, Perce. We spent too much time running around the house,” countered Fred.

“Quiet! Both of you!” ordered Mrs. Weasley, her hands clutching her purse rather tightly.

They reached King's Cross with only two minutes to spare. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley went through the barrier first, followed by the twins and then Percy and Ginny. When it was their turn Ron and Harry charged for the barrier but instead of sliding through seamlessly, they crashed into the bricks with a loud and ugly racket.

Charlie gave a startled yelp and went to help her friends. “What happened?” she asked as she hoisted Harry to his feet.

“I don’t know!” Harry whipped his head around to stare at the station’s clock. “But because of it we missed the train!”

"Fantastic," Charlie muttered.

"Now what?" Harry asked.

"What do you mean? We wait for Ron's parents."

Ron approached the barrier and pressed a hand against it. It was as solid as the bricks that formed it. "Well, if we can't get through, then they can't get out,” he said. His eyes lit up as an idea struck him. “But we can still get to Hogwarts! We’ll just take Dad’s car.”

Charlie gaped at him. “That’s a terrible idea!”

Ron bristled. “What do you mean?”

“Do you know how much trouble we’ll get into?”

“What else are we supposed to do? We don’t have an owl to tell anyone what happened and it could be ages before the barrier is fixed. The car has an invisibility function anyway, so no one will see us.”

“I don’t know,” said Harry with a frown.

Ron gave an annoyed huff. “Fine. I’ll go myself.”

"I wouldn't if I were you," Charlie warned. “Your parents might come back any second.”

“Or they might not,” retorted Ron. “We’ll see who gets to Hogwarts first.”

He grabbed his trunk and started to head for the exit. Harry turned to stare at Charlie with wide eyes and she held up her hands. “No way. I am not going along with this.”

“I can’t let him go alone,” said Harry with a groan. “Maybe I can change his mind before we get to the car.”

Harry hurried after the redhead and Charlie shook her head. She went to sit on a bench a distance away from the barrier and rested her chin against the palm of her hand. When the two boys did not return, she gave a sigh.

“No. He could not be persuaded.”

“Is everything okay?”

The raven-haired girl straightened as a security guard came up to her, brow crinkled with concern. Flashing a smile, she said, “Yes! Just waiting for my train. I came very early.” When his eyes strayed to her trunk she said, “I’m off to boarding school for the year.”

He gave an understanding nod. “I see! Eager to get rid of the parents, eh?”

“Something like that, yes.”

She was grateful when he didn’t ask any more questions and continued on his way. Charlie leaned against the wall and tapped her fingers against her knees. It was about an hour later when the Weasleys, along with other family members of Hogwarts students, stepped through the barrier.

“Charlotte!” Mrs. Weasley exclaimed in relief. “I was so worried when you and the boys didn’t come through!” She took a quick look around. “Where are Ron and Harry?”

“On their way to Hogwarts,” said Charlie reluctantly. “They, uh, took the car.”

Mrs. Weasley’s face turned a shade of purple that reminded Charlie of her uncle. But before she could erupt Mr. Weasley quickly put a hand on her shoulder. "They're long gone by now, Molly. Only thing we can do is go back home and Floo Dumbledore. I'll Apparate Charlotte into Hogsmeade and walk her to the castle."

Mrs. Weasley gave a stiff nod. “I’ll meet you at home, then.”

“Come along, Charlotte.”

Mr. Weasley took Charlie’s trunk and they started out of the station. The girl was grateful that the security guard she had spoken to earlier was nowhere in sight, for she didn’t really want to try and explain herself further.

"I think I read about Apparating,” spoke Charlie, remembering it from a book she had borrowed from the Hogwarts library. “It’s the ability to travel from place to place, right?”

"That’s correct!”

“It’s kind of like teleporting.”

Intrigue filled Mr. Weasley’s eyes. “Teleporting? Is that a Muggle phrase?”

“Yeah. But for us, it’s fictional. We can’t actually do it. It sounds really similar to Apparating.”

“How interesting!”

“ _Hogwarts: A History_ said that no one can Apparate onto its grounds.”

“That’s quite right. Hogwarts has magical wards around it that prevent witches and wizards from appearing in and out as they please.”

They found a secluded area outside and Mr. Weasley took her trunk and Snowy to Hogsmeade first. He vanished with a popping noise and Charlie’s eyes widened with awe. He returned a minute later and extended his arm, which she grabbed.

“I must warn you it’s an unpleasant experience.”

“Okay.”

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.”

Everything went black and she suddenly couldn’t breathe. It felt like she was being pressed from all sides and when the world gained its colour she hunched over and vomited. Mr. Weasley patted her on the back and produced a handkerchief for her to clean herself with.

“Sorry,” she gasped.

“No need to apologize! I did the same thing when I first Apparated.”

It took a minute for Charlie’s stomach to settle and she sheepishly gave back his handkerchief. Mr. Weasley cleaned it off with a quick spell and together they set off for the castle. Charlie let Snowy out of her cage so she could stretch her legs. There was a white blur as Snowy streaked ahead of them.

Charlie peeked up at the sky and thought, _I hope Ron and Harry will make it here safely._

...

"You called, Albus?" Snape drawled as he entered the Headmaster's office.

"Yes. Would you mind patrolling the castle grounds?”

"For what reason?"

Dumbledore pressed his fingers together, a glint of concern in his blue eyes. "It seems that two students took Arthur's enchanted car to get to Hogwarts because they missed the train. Molly's just warned me."

Snape gave a derisive snort. "The Weasley twins, no doubt."

“No, not them.”

"Ronald Weasley then?” When Dumbledore gave a nod, Snape sneered. “I assume Potter was the second student with him? Wanted to arrive in style, did she?"

"Certainly not. Molly and Arthur found Charlotte waiting for them at King’s Cross. She saw no advantage to such a dangerous method of travel and decided to wait. Mr. Lupin is the one who accompanied Mr. Weasley.”

“Lupin. Of course.”

“If you could meet them when they arrive and ensure they have a safe landing, it would be most appreciated. I will prepare for the Welcoming Feast. If the boys arrive during the Sorting Ceremony, I will speak with them afterwards.”

“If I must.”

“Thank you, Severus.”

The Potions Master swept out of Dumbledore’s office and made his way to the Entrance Hall. There he found the small, skinny form of Charlotte Potter standing near Mr. Weasley, who was having a conversation with Madam Pomfrey. The girl was regarding the adults with uncertain, nervous eyes and Snape took a moment to study how the clothes she wore practically engulfed her.

Starved and poorly clothed. Snape had always known Petunia was capable of nastiness but to see the effects so plainly on the twelve-year-old caused a sensation he did not want to identify curl in his heart.

He moved past with only a curt nod towards the two adults. Charlie opened her mouth to greet him but he disappeared outside before she could get the words out. Her shoulders slumped and she gave a quiet sigh.

_At least he didn’t glare at me._

“Would you like me to stay with you, Charlotte?”

Charlie quickly returned her attention to Pomfrey and Mr. Weasley, who were regarding her with kind eyes. “No,” she said quickly. “I’ll be fine. Thank you, though.”

“All right. I’ll be off, then. Have a good year Charlotte. We expect to hear from you.”

Charlie gave a small smile. “Yes, Mr. Weasley.”

He gave her hug before departing. Charlie was left with Pomfrey and her anxiety intensified. Now she would have to answer their questions in a way that wouldn’t land the Dursleys in any further trouble.

“You go on to the hospital wing,” Pomfrey instructed. “I’ll make sure your trunk is taken to your room and then I’ll fetch Professor Flitwick.”

“Okay.”

She navigated her way to the hospital wing, her mind whirling with thoughts. If someone really went to speak with the Dursleys, would they stop withholding food from her? Or would it just get worse? She could probably handle it if the punishment escalated. She had once gone a week, maybe, without meals. She had snuck scraps from the kitchen when they weren’t looking. Yes, even if it got worse, it would be fine. She would be fine. She was used to their punishments.

She reached the hospital wing and sat on the edge of one of the cots. She folded her hands in her lap and played with her fingers until her Head of House and Madam Pomfrey arrived. Seeing the nervous state his Eagle was in, Flitwick said gently, “You need not worry, Miss Potter. We only wish to help.”

“Everything is fine, really,” insisted Charlie.

Pomfrey’s lips sharpened into a frown. “Getting starved as a punishment is not ‘fine’, Miss Potter! It is cruel. How long has this been going on?”

“Er…I don’t know? A few years.”

“Does it happen regularly?” asked Flitwick.

“No. Not regularly.”

“It certainly happens often enough.” Through the baggy material of her clothing Pomfrey poked the girl’s side, where she could feel the ribs pressing worryingly against the skin. "You’re far too small for your age.”

“I just don’t eat a lot.”

“Is that because you aren’t fed much?” asked Flitwick, a dark look entering his eyes.

“They feed me enough.”

Pomfrey narrowed her eyes and whipped out her wand. She muttered under her breath as she ran it over the girl, the tip of the wand glowing. When she was finished, she tapped the wand against a piece of parchment. She read the data that appeared, her lips thinning.

“They don’t, Miss Potter,” she said softly. “They don’t feed you nearly enough.”

Charlie ducked her head and Flitwick seized her hand, giving it a comforting squeeze. “You have nothing to be ashamed of, Miss Potter.”

“Are the Dursleys going to get in trouble?”

The soft, worried question caused Flitwick’s eyebrows to knit together. Exchanging a concerned look with Pomfrey, he said gently, “They will certainly receive a visit from Professor Dumbledore. It is not right, how they punish you.”

“I know. But we have a complicated relationship. I just don’t want them to be separated from Dudley. They’re not completely horrible.”

“I disagree,” Pomfrey muttered. In a normal tone of voice, she said, “Dudley will not be taken away from his parents. But it is you we are concerned with, Miss Potter. Whatever Professor Dumbledore tells your aunt and uncle, they will certainly deserve it. And you need not fear retaliation from them.”

“I don’t.”

Flitwick studied her intently. “Do they harm you, Miss Potter?”

Surprise and alarm filled her features at the question. “Of course not!”

They didn’t. Not really. Nothing more than a swat across the back of a head or a box to the ear. Which Charlie could understand as being unacceptable, but it didn’t hurt, and she had already revealed too much of her life in the Dursley household.

“You’re being honest with us?” pressed Flitwick.

“Yes.”

There was sincerity in her voice and there was nothing on her data sheet to prove otherwise, so Pomfrey was satisfied with the answer. Charlie peeked at the parchment and asked, “What does it say?”

"Your vitamin levels are much too low. It's no wonder you're so pale. You’re also underweight for someone your age. I’m going to give you several nutrient potions that you’ll need to take with your meals. I’ll also give you a potion to help with your appetite. If at anytime you feel yourself getting sick by eating too much you can come to me and I’ll give you a Stomach Soother.”

Flitwick levelled her with a stern glare. "Until your health improves, you will attend all meal times. I am sorry I didn’t pay closer attention before but be sure I won’t be making that mistake again. I will be watching you, Miss Potter.”

"Yes Professor," Charlie responded, managing to hold back her tears.

Having people who cared about her was something she could get used to.

...

The Welcoming Feast had just kicked off by the time the Hogwarts castle came into sight. Harry collapsed against his seat and rubbed at his tired eyes. “Thank Merlin! That took forever!”

“It doesn’t seem that far away when we’re on the train,” muttered Ron.

“So much for us getting here first,” said Harry.

Ron turned to glare at him. “For all we know Charlie is still stuck at the station waiting for my parents.”

_“Look out!”_

The horror in Harry’s eyes caused Ron to whip his head around. His momentarily loss of focus had caused his hands to stray and his foot to go lax. They were careening for a massive tree and before Ron could hit the brake its mighty branches reached up and ensnared them.

The impact caused Harry’s head to whack off the dashboard. “Ow!”

Ron’s wand crunched in the sleeve of his shirt and he frantically shook it out. “My wand!” he cried as his face crumpled in despair.

"It could have been your neck!" Harry snapped. The lenses of his glasses had also shattered and he pulled them from his face, squinting through the windshield. “The tree is attacking us!”

The car was thrashed side to side as the tree battered it. Ron and Harry could do nothing but brace themselves as they were rocked violently back and forth. With a sudden roar from the engine the car launched itself into reverse and it flew from the clutches of the tree, landing hard on the ground.

Harry and Ron found themselves expelled from the car along with their luggage. Ron could only watch in dismay as the Ford Anglia roared off towards the Forbidden Forest, its taillights blinking angrily at them as it departed.

“Sorry!” Harry hollered after it.

“I’m dead,” said Ron heavily. “My dad is going to kill me and bury me in the backyard.”

"Ron, I'm sure he was going to kill you even if the car stayed," Harry said flatly. He tried to take in his surroundings but everything was one big blur, with the exception of the glares of light coming from what he assumed to be the castle. “Everything hurts. Did your rat survive?”

Ron held Scabbers, who was wriggling madly in his grip. “Yeah.”

"Well, well. What do we have here?”

The cold, silky, familiar voice caused them to freeze. Ron slowly turned around to see Snape looming over them. “Professor Snape?”

Snape gave them each a critical once over. "Are either of you in need of urgent medical attention?"

“Just a headache,” muttered Harry, rubbing the small bump on his forehead.

“I’m fine,” said Ron.

“Lupin, go see Madam Pomfrey. You can meet Weasley in Professor Dumbledore’s office when she’s finished with you.”

Harry shot Ron a look before running for the castle. Ron followed after Snape, his heart thudding madly in his chest.

He was _so_ dead.

...

After her conversation with Madam Pomfrey Charlie was allowed to go to her common room until the Welcoming Feast began. Hermione was already sitting at the Ravenclaw table when Charlie entered the Great Hall and she nearly sprang to her feet at the sight of the raven-haired girl.

“What happened?” she exclaimed once Charlie sat next to her. “You, Ron and Harry weren’t on the train! I was so worried!”

Charlie told her about the barrier unexpectedly closing and Ron’s determination to travel to Hogwarts with his father’s flying car. When she finished Hermione huffed and muttered disapprovingly under her breath.

“Those two! What a foolish idea!”

“Well, to be fair, Harry only went because he didn’t want Ron to go alone.”

“Do you think they’re here yet?”

Charlie shrugged. “I’m not sure.”

McGonagall collected the first years and the Sorting Ceremony began. Afterwards Dumbledore said a few words and then the feast appeared on the tables. Next to Charlie’s plate was a small vial.

"What's that?" Hermione asked curiously.

"My vitamins,” muttered Charlie, quickly downing the liquid inside. It tasted like grass and she wrinkled her nose. “I guess I need more nutrients.”

"I could have told you that.”

Just as Charlie was piling roast beef onto her plate a burst of fear went through her chest and her forehead pulsed with mild pain, but she knew instantly it wasn’t from her scar.

_Harry._

Charlie frowned down at her plate. It was the same sort of sensation she had experienced last year in the Forbidden Forest. Somehow, for some reason, whenever Harry was hurt or in trouble, she was able to sense it. But she didn’t understand why.

Snape entered the Great Hall and went to the High Table. After a quick, low conversation with Pomfrey she swept out the doors with a pinched expression. McGonagall, Sprout and Dumbledore spoke with Snape for a bit longer before they all departed, leaving the students to stare after them in intrigue.

“Harry and Ron are here,” remarked Charlie.

Hermione’s brow crinkled. “They could get expelled over this.”

They waited tensely, and soon Pomfrey returned, followed by McGonagall, Sprout, Snape and Dumbledore a few minutes later. Snape seemed to be quite furious and Charlie let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding.

“If they were expelled, I would think Professor Snape would actually be smiling.”

“Well, they’re lucky,” said Hermione with a sniff. “I hope they learned their lesson.”

The feast finished and Dumbledore sent them all off to bed. As the girls stepped into the Entrance Hall, they found Harry making his way towards the Hufflepuff common room. They caught up with him and Charlie asked, “What happened?”

"We were seen by seven Muggles, Ron's dad might lose his job, we crashed into the Whomping Willow, Ron's wand broke, my glasses broke but Sprout fixed them for me, the car fled into the Forbidden Forest, McGonagall is going to send letters to our parents, and we both have detention," Harry summarized glumly.

"What's the Whomping Willow?" Charlie questioned curiously.

"It's an angry tree. It likes to fight back," Harry muttered with a wince.

Hermione crossed her arms. “What were you thinking?”

“I was thinking I didn’t want to let Ron go through this alone. Now I’m thinking the next time he wants to take off in someone else’s flying car, he can go by himself.”


	5. Strange Voices

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Ravenclaw Quidditch team members are my OCs.
> 
> The words in bold are direct quotes from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.

After the Welcoming Feast ended, McGonagall and Dumbledore patrolled the corridors to ensure any dawdling students made their way back to their dorms. When they were in an empty stretch of corridor McGonagall turned to Dumbledore with a furrowed brow. “I simply can’t understand it. The barrier shouldn’t have ever closed in the first place. Who could have been responsible?”

"I have a theory, as unlikely as it sounds.”

"What is it?” asked McGonagall at once.

"The barrier is made up of incredibly strong magic. There are two possible beings that could have interfered with it; Voldemort or a house-elf. I am leaning towards the latter."

McGonagall came to a halt. "A house-elf?” she said incredulously. “You're choosing a house-elf to be the culprit instead of You-Know-Who?"

"I do wish you would use his name, Minerva.”

“I’ll leave that to you,” she said stiffly.

“No, I don’t suspect Voldemort. He is in no condition to accomplish such a complicated task, so you have nothing to fear there."

"But I should fear elsewhere?"

"Perhaps the house-elf was merely sent to pull a little prank.”

"Albus, I sincerely doubt it was a house-elf that closed the barrier."

“House-elves have rather extraordinary magic. The poor things are underestimated by most."

Giving a shake of her head, McGonagall continued down the corridor with a disbelieving snort. “Why in Merlin’s name would a pure-blood family send their house-elf to close the barrier to the Hogwarts Express?”

“That I do not know. I hope, in time, the answer will become clear.”

...

Lingering back to speak with Harry caused Hermione and Charlie to be left behind by the rest of the Ravenclaws. The two approached the eagle knocker that marked the entrance to Ravenclaw Tower and waited for its riddle.

" _I fly in the air, but I am not always there. I cannot be touched, but I can be felt or held. Think very hard, but if you live near the equator, you may have a tough time seeing me."_

"Your breath," Hermione and Charlie answered in unison.

The door swung open and the two climbed the spiralling staircase, emerging into the domed Ravenclaw common room. Most of the students had gone to bed with the exception of some of the older students. As they made their way to their dorm Charlie wondered, “Do you think Ron will enjoy the attention from this escapade like he did with the troll?”

"I'm sure he is,” said Hermione with a sigh. “But hopefully he'll think before doing something this idiotic again."

Charlie laughed. "I don't think we’ll ever be that much of an influence on him.”

...

Ron was not at all relishing in the questions that his fellow Gryffindors bombarded him with. He’d managed to avoid them the previous evening by claiming he was tired and climbing into bed. There was no reprieve for the morning and he half-heartedly fed their curiosity as his eyes were alert for the morning mail delivery. His worst fears came true when the swarm of owls descended into the Great Hall and two bright red squares stood out amongst the brown packages and cream-coloured envelopes.

Ron cast a frantic glance at the Hufflepuff table. Harry’s eyes were wide with horror and his cheeks were already colouring with humiliation.

The Howlers were dropped near their elbows. “At the same time!” Harry hollered across the Great Hall. “Open them at the same time!”

Ron scrambled for his Howler, which was already beginning to smoke. “One! Two! Three!” he shouted.

The two ripped open their Howlers in unison. Two distinctly different voices filled the Great Hall like thunder rolling through the sky. But their words were muddled together, the furious speeches blending together in an incomprehensible mess so that the eager observers could not clearly hear what was being said.

"RONALD BILIUS WEASLEY!"

His siblings and Neville, who sat close enough that they could make out the words spitting from the Howler, regarded him with varying expressions of sympathy, delight and disapproval. Ron turned bright red and slunk low in his seat, mentally grateful that Harry’s quick thinking had saved him a whole lot of embarrassment.

"HOW DARE YOU TAKE YOUR FATHER'S CAR? DO YOU KNOW HOW WORRIED I WAS WHEN I HEARD WHAT YOU DID? YOU AND HARRY COULD HAVE BEEN KILLED! I'M VERY ASHAMED OF YOU YOUNG MAN. I RAISED YOU BETTER THAN THIS! YOUR FATHER IS NOW FACING AN INQUIRY AT WORK! JUST WAIT UNTIL I GET MY HANDS ON YOU! YOU BETTER SHAPE UP MISTER AND START FOLLOWING CHARLOTTE'S GOOD EXAMPLE! I WANT NOTHING BUT GOOD BEHAVIOUR FROM YOU FOR THE REST OF THE YEAR! UNDERSTOOD?"

“Understood!” Ron said in a panicked voice, and this caused Fred, George and Ginny to break into laughter.

Over at the Hufflepuff table, as Ron’s mother bellowed at her son, Harry was forced to listen to the disappointed voice of his uncle while Hannah Abbott, Susan Bones, Justin Finch-Fletchley and a couple of upper-year students pretended not to pay attention.

"HARRY JAMES LUPIN, I AM VERY DISAPPOINTED IN YOU. I KNOW I TAUGHT YOU BETTER THAN THAT! I EXPECT YOU TO WRITE AN APOLOGY TO MOLLY AND ARTHUR RIGHT AWAY. YOU NEVER STEAL SOMETHING THAT DOESN'T BELONG TO YOU AND YOU NEVER PLACE YOURSELF IN A DANGEROUS SITUATION. YOU BOTH COULD HAVE BEEN KILLED. WE WILL CERTAINLY BE SPEAKING MORE OF THIS WHEN YOU ARE HOME. BEHAVE, YOUNG MAN."

Harry ducked his head as the Howler shrivelled up. His ears burned and guilt clawed at his stomach. He hated making his uncle angry with him.

Well, godfather, really. Remus Lupin had been his father’s best friend, and when his parents were killed during the First Wizarding War, Remus had taken custody of him. For all of Harry’s life Remus had been Uncle Remus, though the bond they shared was truly that of father and son.

When Harry was seven, he had asked Remus what happened to his parents. Remus, with a solemn expression, explained that they had been sent on a mission and hadn’t come back. Voldemort had found them and killed them. Harry was only one-year-old when they died.

Harry thought of the picture of his parents he had stored in his trunk. He ought to show it to his friends one day. He was certain they would like to meet his parents. His mother with her long black hair and kind hazel eyes. His father with his neat brunette hair and mischievous brown eyes. As Remus said, he was a spitting image of his father, though Harry wished he shared a physical feature with his mother.

An elbow dug into his side and Harry jolted out of his thoughts. Susan regarded him with a warm smile. “You okay, Harry?”

“Yeah. I’m fine.”

“That was a clever plan of yours. No one else was able to hear what the Howlers were saying.”

Harry peeked over his shoulder and found many disgruntled glares aimed in his direction, especially from the Slytherin table. He caught Ron’s eye and the redhead gave him a weak smile, which Harry returned.

He turned back to his breakfast and gave a sigh. As he finished his eggs and bacon, he mentally wrote a draft of his apology letter to the Weasleys, and for good measure, crafted one for his uncle.

...

Charlie and Hermione were on their way to Transfiguration class when Lockhart appeared in front of them. Hermione positively beamed at the sight of him. “Professor Lockhart!”

“Hello, girls,” he said jovially. “Please excuse me, Miss…”

“Granger,” Hermione supplied eagerly.

“Miss Granger, I must borrow Charlotte for a moment, if you don’t mind.”

Lockhart clapped a hand on Charlie’s shoulder and steered her away from the Transfiguration classroom without waiting for a response. Charlie shot a glance over her shoulder to see Hermione regarding her rather enviously before darting ahead.

“I’m glad I caught you, Charlotte. I’ve been meaning to have a word.”

"I don’t suppose we could speak after my class, Professor?” Charlie asked. “I don’t want to be late.”

Lockhart waved a dismissive hand. "No need to worry. You merely need to explain that I insisted we have a little chat. They’ll understand.”

They came to a stop near the end of the corridor and Lockhart moved in front of her. His eyes were suddenly serious and Charlie frowned. “Sir?”

“I wanted to tell you that none of it was your fault, Charlotte. Not at all. You have no reason to feel guilty.”

“Do you mean the fight?” asked Charlie in confusion.

Lockhart blinked down at her. “You were in a fight?”

“No! I meant at Flourish and Blotts. With Mr. Weasley and Mr. Malfoy.”

“Oh, that. No, of course not. Why would you feel guilty about that little brawl?”

“I don’t know,” said Charlie, trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice. Class had already started and she had no idea what Lockhart was getting at. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, sir. What wasn’t my fault?”

“Your little friends taking a joyride to Hogwarts! No doubt they were jealous of the attention you received and wanted to claim a bit for themselves.”

“I don’t think that was the case,” said Charlie slowly.

“So naïve,” said Lockhart with a fond smile. “I understand you were raised in the Muggle world. It must have been quite a shock upon discovering the fame that awaited you in the wizarding world. I completely understand. Even I sometimes have difficulty coping. If you ever need advice on dealing with your adoring fans and envious friends, just come to me!”

“Okay,” said Charlie in bewilderment. “But I’m really not—”

“It’s perfectly normal for Ronald and Harry to try and act out. But you need not worry. They will soon learn that being friends with a famous person is just as good as _being_ famous.”

“Um—”

“Now off to class with you! And remember, my door is always open!”

Lockhart sauntered off with a cheerful whistle. Charlie stared after him in disbelief. “What just happened?” she whispered to herself.

With a sharp shake of her head Charlie hurried to her class. McGonagall looked up sharply when she entered and Charlie came to a halt. "Miss Potter! Would you like to tell me why you're late to my class? My _first_ class of the school year?”

“Professor Lockhart pulled me aside to have a chat,” said Charlie feebly. “I'm sorry, but I couldn't pull away."

"I see," was all McGonagall said in reply. "Take a seat, Miss Potter."

Charlie quickly lowered beside Hermione. As McGonagall continued on with her lecture, Hermione regarded her friend with wide eyes. “What did he want to speak to you about?” she asked in a soft, excited voice.

“Absolutely nothing of importance,” answered Charlie honestly, ignoring Hermione’s baffled expression as she flipped through her textbook to find the correct page.

...

Despite having worn earmuffs all through her Herbology class, Charlie thought she could still hear the inhumane shrieking of the Mandrakes. But the sound of her name managed to penetrate the phantom echo and she glanced over to see a small boy hurrying towards her.

“Hi,” she greeted. “That’s me. What’s your name?”

"I'm Colin Creevey! I'm a first-year Gryffindor and I've heard so much about you!”

“I’m sure you have,” said Charlie with an inward flinch. She didn’t think she’d ever get used to the wizarding world thinking she was famous, especially since it was for something she didn’t even remember. Spotting the camera clutched in his grip she asked with interest, “Are you from the Muggle world?”

“I am. I was so excited when I found out I was a wizard!”

“It’s pretty cool,” agreed Charlie. “How did you hear about me?”

“A bunch of my Housemates were talking about the Girl-Who-Lived.” Colin’s eyes shone as he looked at Charlie. “You defeated the worst wizard of all time when you were just a baby! Can I have a picture?”

The idea of having her picture taken due to her supposed fame caused Charlie some discomfort. But she found she couldn’t refuse the beaming smile Colin wore. “All right,” she agreed. “But just this once, okay?”

“Okay!” Colin snapped a quick picture and the photo zipped out of the camera. “Thank you!”

“You’re welcome.”

"Potter! I want one too!"

The mocking, sneering voice caused Charlie to gently push Colin behind her. She regarded the approaching Pansy warily. “Why do I feel like you might use it as a dartboard?”

Pansy stared blankly at her. “What in Merlin’s name are you talking about?”

“Never mind,” said Charlie with a sigh. “Can I help you?”

“Yeah. How many pictures will it take before your head completely bursts?”

“I wasn’t planning on having any more taken,” said Charlie lightly. “Also, a head can’t actually burst because of an inflated ego. That’s merely a saying. Sorry to disappoint you.”

Hermione snickered into her hand and Pansy glared at the raven-haired girl. “Why you—”

“What have we here?”

_Twice in one day? What is this nonsense?_

But Charlie kept the annoyance from her face as Lockhart came up to them. Setting a hand on Charlie’s shoulder, he gave Pansy a reprimanding look. “No squabbling now. There’s nothing wrong with a photo op for some adoring fans. It’s part of the job, I’ll have you know. Young man, how would you like a picture of the both of us?”

Colin snapped another picture and said happily, “This is great! Thank you so much!”

“You’re very welcome! Off with the both of you, now.”

Pansy looked utterly furiously for being dismissed so flippantly by a professor. She twisted on her heel and stormed off, no doubt to vent her vexation with Draco. Colin did not seem to mind, hurrying off with a bright smile and his pictures in hand.

Lockhart gave a click of his tongue. “Perhaps hold off on the photos, eh Charlotte? Don’t want your peers getting too jealous!”

He gave her hair a ruffle and walked off. Charlie dropped her smile when his back was turned and she rubbed her hands down her face. Hermione gave a wistful sigh. “It’s so nice of him to look out for you like that.”

Charlie sent her a flat look. “Seriously?”

“Not that you think you’re famous,” said Hermione quickly. “Not at all! But it _is_ nice how he’s trying to help, isn’t it?”

“I will agree to disagree,” said Charlie simply.

As Charlie and Hermione continued out of the courtyard, Sprout watched after the raven-haired girl with a sympathetic expression. McGonagall, who had also witnessed the whole exchange, walked over to the Hufflepuff Head of House with pursed lips.

“I can’t believe that man.”

"Poor thing," Pomona remarked. “But she handled the situation quite well. Never lost her smile.”

“I don’t know what Albus was thinking. Lockhart clearly has no credentials to teach.”

"He wasn't thinking. That's why he was in Gryffindor."

"Do be quiet, Pomona."

...

Charlie felt a great deal of apprehension when it came time for her first Defense Against the Dark Arts class. “I don't know about you, but I don't think he's going to make the best DADA teacher," she whispered to Ron, who sat on one side of her.

The redhead shrugged. "Better than someone who is being possessed by You-Know-Who."

"That's very true."

Lockhart entered the classroom and silence immediately fell. Charlie readied her quill and parchment, but for the first ten minutes of class he lectured on his origins. Most of the girls listened with rapt attention while the boys let their minds wander elsewhere.

He then handed out a stack of papers and told them they had a half hour to finish. Charlie stared in disbelief at the questions, which were all about his personal interests. "Give me a break."

_This guy has no idea how to teach a class._

Although it was not a very Ravenclaw thing to do, she joined Ron in spending the majority of the time coming up with ridiculous answers and had to quell their laughter. Hermione was too engrossed in her own test to scold them.

Hermione was the only one to ace the test and she received twenty points to Ravenclaw for her efforts. Charlie expected the next part of the lesson to be an assigned essay on Lockhart’s background, and was surprised when the man set a cage of tiny, fluttering creatures onto his desk.

“Now I will show you how to properly handle Cornish pixies!” he declared.

His fingers moved for the latch and Charlie’s eyes widened. “Wait—”

Too late.

Blue pixies swarmed everywhere, poking people and stealing items. Seeming to understand immediately that this was a bad idea, Lockhart brandished his wand. But before he could cast a spell it was nicked by a pixie.

“Everyone out!” he called.

The class wasted no time in stampeding for the exit, shouting and yelling. Lockhart whirled around and pointed at Harry, Ron and Hermione, who were at the back of the crowd.

"You three! Put the Cornish pixies back in their cage while I supervise the rest of the class!”

Lockhart let the door slam shut behind him. Ron was furious. “That prat!”

“Don’t call him that!” said Hermione sharply.

“Um…a little help?”

The three jumped and lifted their heads to see Neville hanging from the chandelier. In the chaos, they hadn’t even noticed the poor boy being dragged up by the pixies.

“Man, those things are strong,” muttered Charlie.

“I’ll get Neville down,” said Hermione. “You two work on these pixies.”

"Lovely," muttered Charlie. "All right, let's get this over with— _ow!_ Don't poke me there!" she snapped at the pixie that flew around her.

When Neville was safely on the floor he offered to stay and help. Ten minutes later, bruised and battered and with all the pixies in the cage, they left for their next class.

“I hate Cornish pixies,” growled Ron.

...

The following morning, Charlie and Hermione walked across the dew-covered grass to the Quidditch pitch. Charlie’s eyes widened upon discovering the Ravenclaw, Slytherin and Gryffindor teams deep in an argument.

“Wow. So much for our first practice.”

Ron, who had tagged along to the pitch with his brothers, noticed them and came over. "What I'd like to know," he began when he reached them, "is how in Merlin’s name did the pitch become triple-booked?"

“I don’t know,” said Charlie in bewilderment. “What happened?”

“Apparently, Snape gave a note without checking, McGonagall actually wrote down her booking, and Flitwick forgot to book the pitch after he gave his permission." Ron snorted. "And they say we're the irresponsible ones."

"Ronald!" Hermione rebuked.

"We hardly got any pitch time last year!" Scarlet was arguing to Marcus Flint and Oliver Wood, the other Quidditch captains for their respective House teams. "The both of you nearly mauled each other over who got to practice!"

"I'll be mauling someone soon if you don't get off the pitch!" Marcus warned, waving the note in their faces.

Oliver scowled. "But Snape didn't _write_ down the booking! He just gave you a note! And Ezra, Flitwick didn't do _anything_!"

"That doesn't change the fact we get less practice time than the both of you jerks!" Scarlet hissed. “We’re supposed to have equal opportunity to practice! _Equal!_ ”

While the captains went at it the other team members were either glowering at each other or just looking on in exasperation. "It's bloody five in the morning!" Fred finally howled. "If we're not going to practice, can we go back to bed?"

" _Don't move a muscle!_ " Oliver bellowed, glaring at him. "We are getting this pitch!"

"How do you plan on catching the Snitch with _that_ twig?"

Charlie turned to stare at a group dressed in emerald Quidditch robes. Draco was in the middle of the group, smirking at her. Every Slytherin clutched the latest Nimbus broomstick. “Congratulations on becoming the Slytherin Seeker,” said Charlie politely.

“It would have happened last year, but _some_ of us don’t receive special treatment from Dumbledore,” said Draco venomously.

Hermione scowled at him. "At least she didn't have to _buy_ her way in,” she said with a sniff, looking pointedly at the brand-new broomsticks they touted.

Malfoy glowered at her. “I wasn’t talking to you, you disgusting Mudblood!”

His voice rang out across the pitch, attracting the attention of the squabbling Quidditch players. Infuriated that Hermione had been insulted so viciously, Tommy, Clancy, Fred and George tried to jump Draco but were held back by their level-headed team members. Ron whipped out his wand, his expression enraged, but Charlie gripped him by the wrist.

“Don’t!” she hissed. “He’s not worth it.”

Suddenly aware that they were vastly outnumbered, the Slytherin Quidditch team slunk back towards the castle with hatred in their eyes. “Take your bloody pitch time,” snarled Marcus as they stormed off. “It won’t help you.”

"I assume that Mudblood is some sort of swear word,” said Hermione quietly.

“Scarlet?” voiced Charlie hesitantly. The girl looked ready to explode. “Is it okay if we go to Hagrid’s? If we’re not going to practice?”

“Go ahead,” said Scarlet at once. “Don’t pay that creep any mind, okay Hermione?”

“Yeah,” said George with a hard nod. “You’re not a Mudblood, Hermione. You got that?”

Hermione gave a small smile. “I know.”

Charlie, Ron and Hermione went to Hagrid’s hut for some peace and quiet. The large man opened the door and looked delighted to see them. “What brings yeh here?” Hagrid squinted towards the Quidditch pitch. “Don’ yeh have practice?”

“Draco insulted Hermione and we thought we could spend some quiet time here,” explained Charlie.

Hagrid’s eyes sharpened. "What happened?"

Hermione told him about Draco calling her a Mudblood and Hagrid looked furious. "Don' listen teh a word that boy says! Yer a great witch, Hermione, better than some o' them that come from pure-blood families, Malfoy included."

"What is a Mudblood?" Hermione asked curiously.

"It means someone of dirty blood," Ron said with a scowl. "Particularly those who are Muggle-born and aren't pure-blood."

"Ridiculous," Hagrid muttered. "Have a seat, yeh lot. I’ll make some tea fer us.” As he prepared the kettle, Hagrid asked, “Oi Charlie, how come I haven't gotten a signed picture yet?"

Charlie spluttered out in mortification and horror. "I haven't been signing pictures and I haven't been handing them out and Lockhart is getting on my nerves but I don't want to be rude and—"

Hagrid burst into laughter and Charlie wilted, realizing he was just kidding. “Very funny,” she said with a pout.

...

Luck, Charlie was beginning to realize, was not on her side.

Lockhart found her in the corridor as she was attempting to head back to her dorm for the evening. "Charlotte! I've been hoping to run into you! I could use your help with something very important. Would you be a dear and come with me, if it's not too much trouble?"

“All right,” Charlie agreed with a weak smile. She suspected he wouldn’t let her refuse, so perhaps it was best to just get it over with.

_How bad could it be?_

Very bad, it turned out. She spent four hours helping him answer his fan mail. When the last letter was finished Charlie shook her hand, hoping to work out the cramp. "Well, that's it,” she said, not bothering to hide her relief.

"Thank you so much for your help," said Lockhart, stuffing the answered fan mail into a satchel. "We should do this more often."

"Maybe not so often," said Charlie carefully. "Homework and all, you know."

"Yes, of course, of course. But even Ravenclaws need to take a break from studying. I should know. I was one."

Intrigue flashed in Charlie's eyes. "Really?" she asked in awe. "You were in the Ravenclaw House?"

"Ah, yes. The Sorting Hat decided my smarts and cleverness dominated my other dashing qualities."

"Huh." Charlie could not help but smile. "That's pretty cool."

" ** _Come...come to me...let me rip you...let me tear you...let me kill you..."_**

The raspy voice came from nowhere, causing Charlie to jump in shock. She looked around the room frantically but she and Lockhart were the only ones in the space. The voice died away as quickly as it had come.

"Did you hear that?" she asked, spooked.

"Hear what?" asked Lockhart in confusion.

"The voice..." Charlie trailed off when Lockhart continued to look at her in astonishment. “You didn’t hear it?”

"I'm afraid you must be hearing things. It _is_ rather late, isn't it? Go on then, to bed with you."

"Okay. See you later.”

Charlie was on her guard as she walked back to her common room, casting uneasy glances around her. But the voice did not come again. She was certain she had heard it…a terrifying, raspy voice that was desperate to kill.

A voice, apparently, that only she could hear.

_This can’t be good._


	6. Souls of the Party

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The words in bold are direct quotes from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.

Charlie didn’t get much sleep that night. She faded in and out of slumber until she wasn’t able to fall back asleep. With a sigh she dragged herself out of bed and tiptoed around the dorm, getting dressed as quietly as possible as to avoid waking up her dormmates. She went to the common room and curled up in one of the armchairs. Snowy followed after her and curled in her lap. Charlie stroked Snowy’s back as she stared blankly at the ceiling.

She had so clearly heard that strange voice. It was not a figment of her imagination or a side effect of exhaustion. But Lockhart hadn’t heard a word. What did it mean?

When Hermione woke up and found Charlie’s bed empty, a jolt of worry went through her chest. She hastily got dressed in her robes and hurried down to the common room, where it was a great relief to find her best friend sitting in one of the chairs. “Charlie! Are you okay?”

“Er, not really,” muttered the raven-haired girl, rubbing at her green eyes. “I didn’t sleep much last night.”

“You got back to the dorm late as well. I tried waiting up. Where were you?”

“I was on my way back the dorm when Professor Lockhart stopped me. He wanted my help signing his fan mail. Afterwards, I heard…I heard a voice. A very weird, raspy voice that Lockhart didn’t hear at all.”

“Really?”

"Yeah. It was the strangest thing," Charlie whispered. “It said it wanted to kill somebody...but I'm not sure who or what was saying it.”

Hermione, to her credit, didn’t looked as freaked out as Charlie expected. “That _is_ strange. Especially since you were the only one who heard the voice.”

“Do you think I should tell Professor Flitwick?”

“Do you want to?”

“Not really,” Charlie admitted.

“Well, why don’t we wait and see? Whatever you heard it certainly didn’t kill anyone. I expect someone would have come across a body long before now and the entire castle would have been alerted.”

“I suppose so.”

“When we have our break, we can do some research. I’m sure we’ll find a book that can help give us some answers.” Studying Charlie closely, Hermione asked curiously, “Have you felt any strange pains or feelings lately?”

“In my scar?”

“No—I meant anything similar to what you felt in the Forbidden Forest last year.”

“Oh, yeah. It was when Harry and Ron crashed the car. He was scared and he got hurt, so I felt both.” Letting out a sigh, Charlie muttered, “Am I crazy?”

“Not at all!” said Hermione earnestly. “I may not have an explanation for the voice you heard but I think I know why you feel Harry’s pain and negative emotions. You two might have some sort of wizard bond!”

“A wizard bond?” said Charlie in surprise. “What’s that?”

“Well, there are different types of bonds, of course. But it’s a magical bond that is formed between two wizards that are extraordinarily close. They’re actually quite rare! Isn’t it wonderful?”

“We don’t know for sure if that’s what’s going on,” said Charlie carefully. She was honestly quite bewildered by the possibility. While Harry was one of her best friends, she wasn’t sure if they were truly close enough to have a magical bond, especially considering they had only known each other a short time. And if she did, then why didn’t she have a bond with Hermione and Ron?

"We’ll just have to prove it,” said Hermione determinedly. “Come on, let’s go to breakfast. We can do our research after class.”

Though Charlie didn’t feel particularly hungry, she knew she didn’t have much choice. She dreaded to think what Flitwick and Pomfrey might do if she skipped a meal and her daily dose of vitamins.

...

Later in the day Charlie had a different professor to worry about infuriating. She feared the force of McGonagall’s wrath when she walked into Transfiguration class late.

Again.

"McGonagall is going to kill me!" she wailed as she sprinted down the empty corridor.

She didn’t understand how Lockhart did it. Did he memorize her class schedule? Was that how he always managed to corner her before Transfiguration? Why didn’t he ever want to talk to Hermione? Why did the bushy-haired girl always get waved ahead? She was the one who knew everything about Lockhart. She was the one who wanted to be in his presence.

Lockhart had pulled her aside for another chat. But at least this time the conversation didn’t make Charlie want to rip her hair out. He had asked if she got a proper amount sleep. Charlie lied and said yes. He asked if she would be available for tea that evening. She was honest and said she was busy.

McGonagall would probably hex Lockhart this time. She felt only a little bit of guilt that the mental image brought her some satisfaction.

Her bookbag bounced against her side as she ran. The flap, which she had failed to clasp, flew up and down with her movements. She wasn’t concerned about it until an inkwell jumped out of its depths and clattered against the marble.

“Aw, man!” said Charlie in dismay. The black liquid oozed around the chipped pieces and formed an ugly puddle. “Oh…I sure wish I knew a cleaning spell.”

Mrs. Norris stalked around the corner and froze in place at the sight before her. Panic rising in her chest Charlie pleadingly held out her hands. “Wait a minute—”

But Filch’s cat took off in search of her master. Charlie buried her face in her hands, knowing that the grouchy caretaker would soon come huffing into view. Not wanting to abandon her mess, she waited and flinched when Filch stormed towards her, his breathing a bit harsher than normal due to the illness he’d been suffering from for the past few days.

“I’m sorry,” she squeaked. “It was an accident.”

“A likely story!” Filch snarled. He grabbed her by the arm and started dragging her to his office. “I’m sure you think it’s funny, creating messes for me to clean while I’m in this state!”

“Not at all! I just didn’t know any spells to clean it up. But I can—if you have a rag, I’ll take care of it.”

“So that you can make streaks all over the floors?” said Filch accusingly. “I think not!”

He grumbled under his breath and Charlie resigned herself to being hauled to her sentencing. “Peeves!” barked Filch, so loudly that Charlie jumped. “What are you up to, menace?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” cackled the poltergeist, floating above them. His beady black eyes found the small, miserable girl being yanked along in the curmudgeonly man’s wake. His eyes narrowed deviously and he disappeared through the ceiling.

They entered Filch’s office and Charlie dutifully lowered in a hard, wooden chair. “I’m sorry,” she repeated.

“You will be,” growled Filch.

Knowing there was nothing she could say to improve her situation, Charlie sat quietly as she watched him fumble for some parchment. But before he could really lay into her a gigantic crash sounded from above.

“Peeves!” roared Filch.

For a man suffering from the flu he sprinted out of the office with impressive speed. Charlie stared after him. “Okay. It’s not like I’m supposed to be in class right now.”

She kicked her legs and peeked around the office. It was a cramped space, with a couple of cabinets that were bulging with pieces of parchment. She suspected they were reports on all the students that had ever caused him any amount of grief, intentional or accidental, over the years.

Her wandering green eyes found a folder labelled Kwikspell on his desk. The word was unfamiliar to her and she made a mental note to ask her friends about it later.

It took about ten minutes for Filch to return, ranting under his breath and his face twisted with fury. “Get out!” he snapped at the girl. “I’ve got a report to write on that lousy poltergeist!”

“Okay. Can I have a rag?” When Filch glared at her Charlie remained firm. “It’s my mess. I want to clean it up.”

Filch stared at her for a moment, eyes a bit bewildered, before digging a dusty piece of cloth out of his desk and thrusting it at her. “If you make it worse, girl—”

“I won’t,” said Charlie quickly. “Bye. I hope you feel better!”

She hurried out of the office and retraced her steps. She came to a halt when Peeves appeared in front of her, snickering. "Filchy was mad, he was! Potter owes her life to Peevsie, she does."

Charlie grinned. "I wouldn't say my life, but I definitely owe you a favour. Thanks, Peeves."

"It's fun to mess with old Filchy!”

“Try not to mess with him too much. He is sick, after all. I really have to get to class—see you later, Peeves!”

Charlie ran back to her mess and quickly wiped the ink off the floor. Stuffing the rag into the sleeve of her robe so it wouldn’t soil the books in her bag Charlie continued to Transfiguration. When she stepped through the door McGonagall turned such a cold look upon her Charlie felt herself freeze in place.

“It’s a really long story.”

...

McGonagall kept Charlie after class so she could hear the full explanation. She hadn’t been happy but understood that it had been out of the girl’s control.

When their classes were finished for the day Charlie, Ron, Hermione and Harry gathered in the library for their study session. Hermione disappeared into the stacks and returned with a large volume in her arms.

“What’s this all about?” asked Ron in bafflement.

“I’ll have to do some research, but I have a theory. I’ll explain it to you when I have all the information. For now, you and Harry can review tomorrow’s Potions lesson.”

She opened the book and started to flip through the pages. Ron rifled through his bag before groaning in irritation. “I forgot my Potions textbook. Did any of you bring yours?” He received three negative nods and he sighed. "I'll be right back.”

“You’ll let me share, yeah?” asked Harry.

Ron rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

He departed from the table and Harry squinted at the book Hermione was reading. “What are you—?”

“Study,” Hermione interjected curtly.

“With what? My invisible textbook?”

Hermione ignored him and Harry dug out his homework with a grumble. Ron returned several minutes later with a grimace on his features. “How would you lot like to come to a Deathday Party?”

This distracted Hermione from her research. “What?”

"I ran into Nearly Headless Nick and he asked me to his Deathday Party. It's like a birthday for ghosts, but it's on the day they died. I didn't want to be rude, so I said I would go. You guys want to come with me?”

“Sure,” agreed Charlie. “It sounds interesting.”

“Definitely,” said Hermione brightly.

Harry frowned. “It sounds creepy. But if you’re all going, I guess I’ll come to.”

“Cool!” said Ron in relief. “We can meet in the Charms corridor at the beginning of the Halloween Feast.”

"Professor Flitwick won't be pleased," Charlie mused. "But if I eat a decent breakfast and lunch that day, maybe he'll let me off. Oh, before I forget, I saw something in Filch’s office. A folder with the word Kwikspell on it. What’s that?”

"Filch is taking a Kwikspell course?" Harry asked in amusement.

"What’s that?”

"It's a course Squibs take. People who are born into wizarding families but have no magic. I never knew Filch was a Squib. It explains a lot, actually. What were you doing in Filch’s office, anyway?”

Charlie explained the events that hindered her punctual arrival to Transfiguration. Harry shook his head. “Geez. Peeves never helps anybody.”

“I didn’t even know he had a good side to get onto,” snickered Ron. Peeking at Hermione, Ron asked, “Are you going to tell us what you’re on about?”

“Hermione thinks Harry and I share a magical bond,” informed Charlie.

Ron’s eyebrows rose. “Seriously? Those are rare.”

“Which is why I’m looking into it,” said Hermione. She flipped rapidly through some pages before huffing in frustration. “There’s nothing helpful in here about magical bonds. I’ll be back.” Catching Ron staring at her, she said, “Homework, Ron.”

“What about you?” demanded Ron.

“I’ve certainly done more than you have,” she said pointedly.

Ron glowered at her. “I’d be angry at that if it wasn’t so true.”

...

In hindsight, Charlie figured she should have done further research into what exactly a Deathday Party was. The food was rank and completely inedible, the sheer number of ghosts attending caused the temperature of the dungeons to plummet, and the music sounded like nails on a blackboard amplified tenfold.

By the time they stumbled out of the dungeons Charlie’s temples pulsed with a headache. “That was…interesting.”

“Sorry about that,” muttered Ron. “At least Nick was happy.”

"Next time, just say you have a prior engagement," Harry grumbled.

“Never mind,” said Hermione with a sigh. “If we hurry, we can catch the end of the Halloween Feast.”

" ** _...rip...tear...kill..."_**

Charlie came to a screeching halt, her eyes wide. Ron smacked into her back but she paid it no mind. "Oi! What are you—?" Ron began, but fell silent when Charlie shushed him.

" ** _...soo hungry...for so long..."_**

The voice was growing fainter and seemed to be travelling upwards. Charlie stared at the ceiling with a furrowed brow. Hermione stared at her friend with wide eyes. “Is it…is it the voice?” she asked in a whisper.

“What voice?” asked Ron in fear.

“I don’t know,” said Charlie nervously. “But it’s apparently one only I can hear. Whatever it is, I think it’s going upstairs…it wants to kill somebody.”

“Then what are we doing standing around here?” cried Harry.

" ** _...kill...time to kill...I smell blood...I SMELL BLOOD!"_**

The voice had found a target. Charlie was torn for only a second. She ought to find a professor but by the time they made it to the Great Hall it would be too late. And the only way to find the source of the mysterious voice was to follow it.

“Go to the Great Hall. I’m going after it!”

Charlie took off in a run. Harry, Ron and Hermione quickly sprinted after her. “Are you crazy?” snapped Ron.

“You shouldn’t come with me,” insisted Charlie.

“We’re not letting you go alone,” said Harry, aghast.

With their wands clutched tightly in their hands the group of second-years jogged upstairs and across the second floor. They came to a halt in an empty corridor and what they discovered caused them to gasp in horror.

On the wall in front of them, in between two windows, was a chilling phrase that seemed to be written in blood.

**THE CHAMBER OF SECRETS HAS BEEN OPENED.  
ENEMIES OF THE HEIR, BEWARE.**

There was a massive puddle of water in front of the message. Charlie edged around it, her heart jumping into her throat. Hanging from a torch, hung as if she were an ornament, was Mrs. Norris. The cat was stiff as a board and her eyes dead. There was nothing in them to indicate there was life left in her.

"Poor thing," Hermione whispered. “Did the voice do this?”

"I guess so," Charlie said shakily. “But I don't know who or what the voice belongs to.”

"We'll find out later," Ron hissed. "We need to get out of here!"

But cheerful voices and laughs echoed through the corridor. The four were trapped, with nowhere to run, and they could only stand helplessly as crowds of students poured towards them from both ends of the corridor.

All jubilant noise ceased once everyone caught sight of the message and Mrs. Norris. The silence seemed to ring louder than the laughter. Draco and Pansy pushed their way to the front of the crowd with wide smiles.

“Ha! You’re in for it now, Mudbloods!” crowed Pansy.

“The Heir will take care of you,” sneered Draco.

_“My cat!”_

Filch shoved his way to his fallen pet with distress and heartbreak in his eyes. He hesitantly touched Mrs. Norris’ head and he recoiled at the sensation of hard fur. He whirled on Charlie with such fury that the girl scrambled backwards.

_“You!”_

“I didn’t do anything!” she squeaked.

“You killed me cat!” he roared.

“No, I promise I didn’t! I just—”

“You just what, Potter?”

Charlie glanced over her shoulder to see Snape and Dumbledore approaching. Snape was regarding her coldly and Dumbledore’s brow was furrowed in deep concern. “I just found her like this,” said Charlie in a small voice. “I don’t know what happened.”

“Likely story,” sneered Snape.

Dumbledore gave the cat a thorough inspection. “You need not worry, Argus. Mrs. Norris is fine. She is only Petrified.”

“She’s alive, then?” asked Filch desperately.

“She is.” Dumbledore swept his gaze over Charlie, Ron, Hermione and Harry. “None of you know what has happened here?”

“No!” said Ron quickly.

“We really did just find her like this,” added Harry.

“We’re not sure what happened,” said Hermione earnestly.

“Lies!” cried Filch. “I want them punished!”

“They are children, Argus. They could not have Petrified your cat.”

“Well, what will happen to her?”

“I’ll take her to Madam Pomfrey. She can stay in the hospital wing until Professor Sprout’s Mandrakes are fully matured. A potion can be brewed to restore her.” Turning to the four kids still stuck in the middle of the corridor, surrounded by prying eyes, Dumbledore said, “Meet me outside my office, if you please. I’ll be with you shortly.”

Harry, Ron, Hermione and Harry wasted no time in wrestling their way through the clusters of students, avoiding eye-contact as they went. As they made their way to Dumbledore’s office, Charlie had a sneaking suspicion that somehow, she was going to have to deal with this apparent phantom threat.

After all, how was anyone else supposed to help when they couldn’t even hear it?


	7. So Much for a Quiet Year

Charlie, Ron, Hermione and Harry lingered near the gargoyle that stood guard outside Dumbledore’s office. Dumbledore returned and Charlie felt her heart sink to see Snape accompanying him. The headmaster whispered the password and the gargoyle sprang aside, revealing a stairwell.

When they reached the top the four kids immediately lined up in front of Dumbledore’s desk. Charlie found her eyes drifting to a magnificent phoenix resting on its perch. The bird trilled in greeting and Charlie raised her hand, giving a soft, awed wave.

Dumbledore smiled. "This is my familiar, Fawkes.”

“I’ve never seen one before,” breathed Hermione, her eyes wide with wonder.

“Professor,” spoke Harry, his interest in the rare, magical creature overshadowed by fear and uncertainty. “Who did this to Mrs. Norris?”

"You know very well who did it,” said Snape sharply. “You four were the only ones near the cat.”

"These children are only second-years,” said Dumbledore pointedly. “You know they are not capable of Petrifying, nor do they have the amount of Dark magic it takes to do so."

"And we would never do such a thing,” said Ron crossly.

"Then why weren't you at the feast?" Snape demanded.

"Nearly Headless Nick invited Ron to his Deathday Party and Ron asked us all to go with him," Charlie explained. "We left early to see if we could catch the end of the Halloween Feast and we came upon Mrs. Norris."

“You were in the opposite direction of the Great Hall,” said Snape with narrowed eyes.

“We decided to take the long way. Stretch our legs,” chimed in Ron.

“Doubtful,” sneered Snape. “Professor Dumbledore, they’re clearly trying to hide something.”

“They were simply in the wrong place at the wrong time. As for who is responsible, I am afraid I don’t have an answer. Not yet.” Dumbledore regarded the four intently. “Are you sure there is nothing more you witnessed?”

“No sir,” chorused Ron, Harry and Hermione.

Charlie hesitated for a second, but Harry’s elbow digging subtly into her side caused her to say, “No sir.” 

“I see. In that case, you four may head off to bed. Go straight to your dorms. No dawdling."

They hurried from his office and, when they were alone in the corridor, Charlie muttered, "Perhaps I should have told him about the voice."

"It’s not exactly good that you can hear a voice no one else can,” said Harry firmly. “People will think you’re crazy. Not that we do!” he added quickly. “But I think it’s best to leave it alone for now. I’m sure Dumbledore will figure out what’s causing this.”

“I suppose,” said Charlie reluctantly.

“Let’s just get to bed, yeah?” suggested Ron.

Charlie nodded, though she knew she would be enduring another night of restless tossing and turning.

...

Over the next couple of days, Charlie found herself being given a wide berth by nearly the entire Hogwarts student populace. Harry gave his head a shake as a group of Hufflepuffs skirted around Charlie as they passed.

“Ridiculous.”

“What is?”

“They think you’re the Heir of Slytherin,” said Ron with a roll of his eyes. “Which is stupid, since you’re a Ravenclaw.”

“Er, well, to be honest, the Sorting Hat did consider putting me in Slytherin,” confessed Charlie.

Ron and Harry looked at her in shock. Hermione cleared her throat pointedly and they hastily rearranged their expressions. “Never mind,” said Harry. “It doesn’t matter. You’re still a Ravenclaw.”

“Yeah.” Ron paused for a second before adding, “But don’t tell people about the Slytherin thing. I think it might just make everything worse.”

Charlie sent him a weary glare. “No kidding.”

Curious about the Chamber of Secrets, Charlie took some time during one of their weekly study sessions to research it. Her copy of _Hogwarts: A History_ was opened before her and she flipped through the pages until she found what she was looking for.

“Found it!”

Harry, Ron and Hermione looked up from their essays. They crowded around her and together they read the brief passage that explained the origins of the Chamber of Secrets.

_Salazar Slytherin disagreed with the other Hogwarts founders about the importance of blood purity and the acceptance of Muggle-borns at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. The other Founders were against him in this matter and, refusing to compromise, Salazar departed. Before he left, he created a secret chamber deep underground in Hogwarts Castle – which is known as the Chamber of Secrets. This Chamber is home to a malicious beast that is supposed to purge the school of all Muggle-born students. Only his Heir has the ability to open the Chamber and in the centuries after Salazar Slytherin's death, many have searched fruitlessly for the Chamber._

_Dobby was right,_ Charlie thought, realization and understanding descending upon her. _This must have been the danger he was trying to warn me about._

“I can’t believe someone finally found the Chamber and opened it,” said Harry.

"Now all we have to do is figure out who the Heir is,” said Hermione determinedly.

Harry groaned. "This was supposed to be a quiet year!"

“This is definitely what Dobby was trying to warn me about. If he really does belong to the Malfoy family then speaking with Draco would be a good place to start,” said Charlie thoughtfully. “Even if Dobby doesn’t belong to him, the Malfoy family is a prominent pure-blood family. I’m sure Draco knows _something_.”

"They might like to brag but no way will they tell us anything," Ron pointed out.

Hermione hummed. "Maybe not us, exactly. I read about Polyjuice Potion in one of the Potions books I checked out. You put the hair of the person you want to transform into the finished potion and drink it. For example, if I put Charlie's hair into the Polyjuice Potion and drank it, I would turn into Charlie."

"Isn't that a potion above our year?" Harry asked nervously.

"I'm sure we can do it,” said Hermione confidently. “But the recipe isn’t in any of the books we can borrow without permission. It’s in the Restricted Section.”

“I’m not sneaking back in there,” said Charlie feelingly. “Not after last year.”

“That’s okay. I’ll just get the signature of a professor. I'll be right back!"

Hermione left and Charlie blinked. “She’s not going to Professor Lockhart, is she?”

“Who else would be stupid enough to give her permission to take out a book from the Restricted Section?” said Harry flatly.

“It’s always more work to do with her,” grumbled Ron. Glancing at Charlie he asked, “Are you ready for your Quidditch game tomorrow?”

“I guess. Scarlet's been in a bad mood. I don’t want to face her wrath if we happen to lose. How about you, Harry? Are you ready for your debut as a Chaser?”

Harry, who was successful in making the Hufflepuff Quidditch team, grinned. “I can’t wait!”

"You guys are lucky," Ron said with a sigh. “I'm going to have to wait until my fourth year. That's when Oliver's going to graduate and I want to be a Keeper."

They discussed Quidditch until Hermione returned. She waved a piece of parchment at them and said excitedly, “I got it!”

Before anyone could respond she turned on her heel and went in search of Madam Pince. Ron stared after her in bewilderment. “Do you think Lockhart knew what he was signing?”

“No,” said Harry and Charlie at once.

Hermione came back with the desired book. She plopped down in her chair and set it on the table. "I went to Professor Lockhart and he was more than happy to sign the permission form.”

Ron crossed his arms over his chest. “Yeah. He definitely had no idea what he was signing.”

“Oh, be quiet,” said Hermione with a huff. “It doesn’t matter anyway. This is the book that has the Polyjuice Potion recipe and—”

Ron let out a rather high-pitched shriek, cutting the girl off, and he toppled off his chair. He scrambled backwards and pointed a shaking finger towards Hermione's hair. "What?" Hermione asked frantically. "What is it?"

"It's a spider," Charlie informed her, reaching up and plucking the fat black arachnid from her bushy hair. She walked over to the window, opened it and set it free.

"You're afraid of spiders?" Harry asked in interest.

Ron, white-faced, nodded and crawled back into his chair. "Dead ones are all right, but I hate live ones," he rasped. “They give me the creeps.”

"I suspect one crawled into my hair when I was inspecting the area where Mrs. Norris got attacked.”

Charlie stared at her. “You did what?”

“Well, I wanted to take a closer look. The puddle was still there, so afterwards I went to see Moaning Myrtle and asked if she knew anything, but she wasn't much help. There were dozens of spiders around, though. It was the strangest thing."

Ron shuddered. “There weren’t any there when we first found Mrs. Norris. I’m sure I would have seen them.”

“Never mind the spiders. How long does it take to brew the Polyjuice Potion?” Harry asked.

“It takes a month.” When her friends stared at her in bafflement Hermione said, “I know it’s a long time, but I figure if we really want to see if Malfoy knows anything, this is the way to do it.”

“I guess so,” said Ron with a frown. “But a whole month? Where will we brew it?”

“We can make it in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. No one ever uses it.”

Ron leaned over Hermione’s shoulder and read through the ingredients list. "Hermione, where are we going to get this stuff?"

“Charlie and I have them in our potion kits. Remember when we bought all those extra ingredients and you made fun of us? Not so silly now, is it?”

Ron scowled. “Don’t be smug. It’s annoying.”

...

Charlie was distracted from her worries of their illegal brewing and strange voices when it came time for her first Quidditch game of the year. It was the second match of the season, though the first match for the Ravenclaws. Slytherin had beaten the Gryffindors in the first match, much to the disappointment of three-fourths of the student populace.

"Okay!" Scarlet barked as she paced in front of her teammates. "I know we haven't had a lot of practice time but neither have the Hufflepuffs. Stupid Wood and Flint...I'll be putting in a complaint about that."

"This is supposed to be a pep talk,” pointed out Tommy.

"Whatever! Get your butts out there and let's win this!” Scarlet levelled Tommy with a glare. “That peppy enough for you?"

Tommy rolled his eyes. “I hate it when you get in this mood.”

“Good. Use it as motivation. Imagine what I’m going to do if we lose.”

“If we lose, I’m going straight to Flitwick’s side,” Clancy muttered to Eliza. “He’ll protect me.”

They filed onto the pitch and lined up opposite the Hufflepuffs. Harry and Charlie grinned at each other and, when Madam Hooch blew the whistle, they took off simultaneously into the air.

Charlie found herself distracted from searching for the Snitch whenever Harry got nailed by a Bludger. Pain would erupt in her body and she flinched against the sensation. _We really need to figure this out,_ she thought.

Her attention wasn’t entirely on the game and she heard the whizzing of a Bludger at the last minute. There was no time for her dodge, but Clancy swooped in and smacked it away.

“Thanks,” said Charlie in relief.

“You’re welcome,” he said cheerfully.

Charlie peeked past his shoulder and her eyes widened. “Clancy. Is it supposed to be coming back?”

Clancy followed her gaze. The Bludger was indeed sailing back towards them. “Uh…no, definitely not.”

He gave it another whack with his bat but it did no good. This time it soared high above, clearly intending to go over Clancy’s head, and Charlie paled. “Oh no.”

The game was completely forgotten as everyone gaped at the rogue Bludger. Charlie swerved, twisted, ducked and rolled as the Bludger chased her all over the pitch relentlessly.

“A little help!” she wailed.

“We got you!” cried Aurora.

She, Clancy and the Hufflepuff Beaters tailed the girl to defend her, but the Bludger was avoiding their movements in its attempts to strike Charlie.

"Come on, where are you?" Charlie muttered, looking frantically for a golden glint. Maybe if she could catch the Snitch and end the game, the Bludger would cease moving. "I don't want to die today."

She finally spotted the Golden Snitch and made a beeline for it. The Bludger surged after her and Charlie could hear the wind whistling as it rapidly pursued her. She reached the Snitch and her fist closed around it just as the Bludger caught up, smacking her hard in the back of the head.

Everything went black.

...

When Charlie’s eyes opened, she was not sprawled on the green grass of the pitch, but lying in a cot in the hospital wing. Harry, Ron and Hermione were sitting near her bed and they immediately jumped to their feet when they saw her moving.

"What happened?" Charlie croaked. Her head felt like it was split in two and her arm felt weird.

"The Bludger hit you,” Hermione informed her. "You fell unconscious and Professor Dumbledore brought you here.”

“You won the game!" added Ron.

"Yay," mumbled Charlie.

"Your broomstick is safe," Harry spoke. He was shifting his right arm restlessly, his forehead pinched. "Scarlet took it back to your common room."

"Why was the Bludger following you like that?" Ron asked.

Charlie shrugged, then froze when she discovered she could only shrug one shoulder. Glancing down, she shrieked at the sight of her right arm, which was completely flat and rubbery. "What happened?!"

Ron rubbed the back of his neck. "You broke your arm when you struck the pitch. Lockhart got to you first. He tried to cure you, but he kinda screwed up."

"Idiot man," Pomfrey muttered as she approached them. "It's a painful business re-growing bones." She was holding a goblet of foul-smelling liquid. Seeing Charlie’s stricken expression, she said bluntly, "It's Skelegrow and it's nasty. Drink it up."

Charlie closed her eyes and guzzled it down. Immediately it felt like spikes were digging into her skin. "Owwwwwww.”

“Yeah,” said Harry with a wince, unconsciously cradling his arm against his chest as he also experienced Charlie’s pain.

“It will hurt for a bit,” said Pomfrey sympathetically.

“My head is killing me.”

“Now that I can cure with little discomfort.”

Pomfrey retrieved a potion and Charlie downed it. It tasted much better than Skelegrow and she felt the pain in her head disappear. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome. If you need anything else, just call for me.”

Pomfrey went into her office and Charlie settled back against her pillows. Her arm felt like it was on fire. “Hurts,” she groaned.

"You'll feel better soon," soothed Hermione, tucking the covers around her friend. "We'll come back and visit you before curfew. Get some rest."

"See you later."

Her friends left and Charlie managed to doze off, but only for about a half hour. She awoke to a sudden cold pressure on her forehead.

"Geez, Dobby!" Charlie sat up, careful not to dislodge the house-elf, who sat on her chest. "What are you doing here?"

Dobby stared at her with wide green eyes. "Charlotte Potter came back to school! Charlotte Potter should have gone home to safety when she missed the train."

"How'd you know—? Ah, Dobby! You didn't!"

"Dobby was just trying to keep Miss safe!"

Charlie sighed. "I know, Dobby. I’m guessing that out of control Bludger was your doing?” His guilty expression said it all. "I thought so. Dobby, I wouldn’t exactly call your efforts to keep me safe effective. My arm is _killing_ me.”

"Dobby just wants Charlotte Potter to be safe! She means so much to the dregs of the wizarding world! House-elves were treated horribly, and some still are treated so, but life has improved since Miss defeated He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named!"

"Dobby, really, I'll be fine.”

"But the Chamber of Secrets has been opened again and Miss is in danger!" Dobby blurted. He instantly started to smack himself and Charlie quickly halted him.

“Opened again?” repeated Charlie. “Dobby, do you know who opened it before?" But the house-elf could not answer. Charlie sighed in resignation. "Dobby, I'm not going home. I'm going to stay here. All right?"

"Miss must go home! Charlotte Potter is noble and valiant, but even she cannot—"

Footsteps echoed down the corridor and Dobby quickly disappeared with a _pop_. Charlie settled back into bed and closed her eyes just as the door opened, letting in a sliver of candle light into the dark room.

Dumbledore and McGonagall hefted a Petrified person onto one of the spare cots. Pomfrey rushed out of her office and gasped softly. "Another attack?"

"Minerva found him," Dumbledore whispered gravely. "It seems young Colin Creevey was on his way to visit Miss Potter."

Charlie felt her heart sink.

"Does this mean what I think it means?" Pomfrey asked in fear.

Dumbledore sighed heavily. "The Chamber of Secrets has indeed been opened again."

 _And the only one who knows who opened it is a house-elf who has been ordered not to say anything,_ thought Charlie grimly. _Terrific._


	8. A Possible Bond

Charlie sat crossed-legged on the dusty marble floor in Moaning Myrtle's bathroom. Ron and Harry sat on either side of her and Hermione stood in a bathroom cubicle with the door open. The bushy-haired girl wanted the first brew to go perfectly and Ron and Harry were not offended when they were asked to play the role of assistants, handing her ingredients when necessary. Charlie could not offer much help, as her arm was still pretty stiff and useless.

"Dobby has to belong to the Malfoys," Ron was saying confidently. "I bet you any money Mr. Malfoy opened the Chamber when he was in school and he’s ordered his little Snake to do the same."

"It’s definitely a place to start,” said Charlie carefully, not wanting to make accusations just yet with little information. “But there’s been a lot of Slytherins over the years. The Heir could be any of them.”

"Let me get this straight,” piped up Harry. “Children or relatives of the Heir of Slytherin would still be able to open the Chamber?”

"Well, it’s just a theory,” said Hermione, stepping out of the cubicle. "We won't find out anything until this potion is finished.”

"In the meantime, hopefully Dobby doesn’t keep trying to force me out of Hogwarts," Charlie said with a sigh. "I know he means well but I don’t think I can take any more. He nearly killed me with that Bludger.”

“He wouldn’t have killed you. Professor Dumbledore was very quick. He cast a spell that slowed you down before you hit the pitch.”

Charlie glanced at Harry. “I never asked about how you felt, when I went unconscious.”

Harry furrowed his brow. “It’s weird. When you get hurt, I only feel a part of it. When the Bludger hit the back of your head, I had a bad headache until Pomfrey healed that injury. And as for the arm, it felt like I kept getting pricked over and over again.”

Hermione mulled this over. “So you don’t feel the pain how Charlie feels it? It’s muted?”

“Yeah, mostly. The only time I passed out along with Charlie was when she was fighting Quirrell.”

Charlie flinched. “Yeah. I’d take another Bludger to the head before having to go through that again.”

“Interesting,” said Hermione softly. “I really do have to look more into this.”

Ron grinned at Charlie. "You were fantastic, by the way. You fell off your broom but you still managed to hold on to the Snitch.”

"Add it on to the golden reel,” she replied. “Soon I'll have a collection of best Quidditch moments."

...

December approached and the Polyjuice Potion was in its final stages. They were struck with a mountain of snow, which turned the castle grounds into a winter wonderland.

"Can't we have our library session another day?" Ron whined as he slumped in a squashy chair. He stared out the window at the glittering snowy landscape and the students frolicking through it. “I want to have a snowball fight.”

"Now Ron, when you finish all your homework before the holidays, you can have all the fun you want while everyone else is stuck inside rushing to finish it," Hermione promised. “It’ll be a great feeling.”

Ron, who had been trapped in the library the last three days of the previous Christmas break, nodded in resignation. They all set to it, opening their textbooks and stretching out their parchment. Hermione, despite always writing lengthy essays, finished her Herbology assignment first. She tucked her completed work into her bag and pulled out a book titled _Magical Bonds._

“Where did you get that?” Charlie asked in surprise.

“Well, I couldn’t find any books on magical bonds in the regular collection. I searched for one in the Restricted Section when I was also looking for the Polyjuice Potion recipe.”

"Have you found anything?" Charlie asked as she scribbled out a conclusion to her essay.

"I've skipped the sections on Marital Bonds and Paternal Bonds, as they certainly won't be the types we're looking for. The only bond in here that describes the feelings you two have been experiencing is the Sibling Bond."

Harry arched an eyebrow. "Hermione, do we look like we're related?"

Hermione lowered her book and eyed them both. Charlie’s complexion was pale, allowing her bright green eyes to stand out amongst her features. She was short and skinny and overall rather small. Her black hair tumbled down her back in loose, untameable waves. Harry, on the other hand, had brown eyes, a darker skin tone, neat brunette hair and freckles that smattered across his nose. They looked nothing alike.

"Read this!" Undeterred, Hermione placed the book in front of Charlie, Harry and Ron. The three learned forwards and read the passage she indicated.

_The Sibling Bond is a magical bond between two siblings who have an extremely trusting and close relationship. A Sibling Bond is not something that is conjured but happens naturally. Some examples of situations where a Sibling Bond can be formed are; something tragic happening to both siblings, going through a life-changing event simultaneously or undergoing severe distress. A Sibling Bond is created out of mutual trust, respect and love. It may take many years for a Sibling Bond to form, and in most cases many siblings go through life without a Sibling Bond. Those of multiple births are especially likely to form a bond._

_Some signs of a Sibling Bond are as follows:_

_-Feeling each other's pain and negative emotions_  
-Knowing when the other is in danger  
-Ability to communicate telepathically 

_For information on how to help further develop a Sibling Bond, please turn to page 243._

"This doesn't make sense," Ron stated as he fell back against his chair. "Harry and Charlie look nothing alike. They can’t be twins."

"They could be fraternal!" Hermione argued, snapping the book closed.

"Uncle Remus never told me I had a sister," Harry said. "My parents look nothing like Charlie and she doesn't look like them.”

"There might be a reason you two were never told you were related,” Hermione said.

"Why wouldn't they tell us?" Harry asked.

"Perhaps your parents knew Voldemort was going to attack and tried to keep the both of you safe. But something went wrong, Harry was taken away and Charlie became the Girl-Who-Lived. How did your uncle know your father?"

"They were best friends," Harry said with a confused frown. "What's that got to do with anything?"

"Then your uncle must have known that it wouldn't be safe if Voldemort knew you were related to Charlie! I don't mean to be insensitive, but Charlie's parents died when Voldemort attacked them."

The unspoken question hung in the air; what happened to your parents, Harry?

Harry finally answered hesitantly, "They were killed in the First Wizarding War. They went on a mission and didn't make it back."

Hermione shot them all triumphant glances. She was answered with blank looks.

"Hermione, your theory is farfetched," Charlie pointed out. "Why would Harry be sent away and not me? How come our bond is in place now?"

"Well, you haven't grown up with each other and since you weren't aware you had a sibling, it came into action the day you became best friends! The both of you must have known subconsciously how much you loved each other and it formed."

"I don't believe it." Ron shook his head. "Dumbledore or Harry's uncle would have told them."

"Not if it was for Harry's protection!" Hermione insisted. "Look, if you don't believe me, I'll whip up a potion that'll tell us whether or not the two of you are related."

"On top of the Polyjuice Potion?" Harry asked in disbelief.

"Oh, the Polyjuice Potion will be done by Christmas break. The Relations Potion doesn't take nearly as long. There's only one problem."

"And that would be?" Ron pressed.

"The Relations Potion calls for Leprechaun Tears as the base and none of us have it. Professor Snape, however…”

"So you want us to waltz up and ask him for it?" Harry asked incredulously.

Hermione flushed. "Er, no. I know this isn't a very Ravenclaw thing to do but...we'd have to steal it."

There was a beat of silence, and then Ron spoke. "You've lost it."

...

Hermione was completely serious. There was nothing that could be done to dissuade her. Ron wished them luck and promised to attend their funeral, a joke that none of them appreciated. Harry and Charlie trudged to Potions class the following day with dread in their hearts. Hermione, it seemed, was unaffected by the possibility of being caught by Snape.

"She's mental!" Harry whispered.

Charlie sighed. "I hope she won't be too disappointed when she finds out she's wrong."

“She might not find out. If Snape catches us, we’re looking at expulsion.”

“I guess we better not get caught.”

The dungeon door slammed shut and Snape swept to the front of the room. Charlie stared down at her textbook, her heart thudding nervously in her chest. She had finally reached a delicate place in her relationship with Snape. The man seemed to realize that he wouldn’t be able to get a reaction out of her, no matter how often he insulted her. The snarky comments had lessened and since her potion brewing was near perfection, there was nothing for him to critique.

All of this would go down the drain if he caught her sabotaging one of his Slytherins.

Snape put the instructions of the day on the board and they all got to work. Charlie whispered to Harry, "Rock, Paper, Scissors to see who has to throw it in the cauldron."

"You're on."

Harry and Charlie engaged in a quick round and Charlie groaned when she lost. "Why are you so good at that game?"

Hermione cleared her throat and gave Charlie a pointed look. She had stayed quiet while the two of them conversed but now Snape had his back to them. It was the perfect opportunity. Charlie nervously pulled out a wizarding world version of a firecracker and gave it a poke with her wand. It started to fizz and Charlie hastily chucked it in the air.

It landed right into Pansy's cauldron.

_Oh, I hope that wasn’t a subconscious move._

**_BOOM!_ **

The potion splattered over both Draco and Pansy. The students surrounding them managed to duck just in time to avoid the splash. The two started shrieking and screaming and Snape rushed over to assist them. When everyone was distracted Hermione slipped into Snape's office. She returned only a few seconds later, her hand tucked up the sleeve of her robe and her eyes roaming the classroom to ensure she had not been seen.

By the time Draco and Pansy were sorted class was over. But everyone knew better than to leave. They stayed rooted by their tables as Snape prowled the aisles, his eyes radiating with fury. He searched for a guilty look or a smug smile, but didn’t find one.

His eyes swung to Potter, but she was regarding the two Slytherins with concern. Grudgingly Snape could admit that she didn’t actively seek to antagonize Draco and Pansy, even though they took every opportunity to try and rile her up.

It was honestly astonishing, really, how unlike James she was. The thought eased his ire.

His eyes swung to Lupin, who was staring at the thick substance coating the floor with wide-eyed disgust. The boy also had James’ blood in him, on top of being raised by a Marauder, but he was relatively quiet and didn’t give Snape much opportunity to cut him down.

"Whoever did this," he growled, "will be very, very, _very_ sorry."

…

Ron met up with his friends as they were leaving Potions. Hermione quietly filled him in on how their plan went and he eagerly informed them about the posting he had seen on the board outside the Great Hall.

"A Duelling Club? Well...I suppose it couldn't hurt,” said Charlie thoughtfully.

"It would be beneficial," Hermione agreed.

Harry shrugged. “Sure. Why not?”

The club was meant to start at eight o'clock that evening. They returned to the Great Hall at that time to see most of the students gathered inside, chatting excitedly.

"You gotta be kidding me," Charlie said flatly as she spotted Lockhart beaming down at them from the gold stage that replaced the long tables. "Is it too late to turn back?"

It was, because the man had spotted her and was waving wildly.

"I think he's one of _your_ biggest fans," Ron snickered.

"Hello all!" Lockhart boomed. "I've started this duelling club so you can learn to protect yourselves! I can’t teach you all my tricks, mind you, but if you’d like some background information on how I achieved such skill, you can see me at the end of this session and I'll write you down for an order of my published Defense collection."

Snape, who had been standing off to the side, let out a derisive snort. Charlie flinched. _Snape and Lockhart. Why do I have a feeling this is not going to go well?_

"Ah yes! My assistant Professor Snape and I will be partaking in a demonstration. But don't fret. You'll still have your professor when I'm through," he said with a wink.

"He isn't aware he's about to be shown up, is he?" Ron asked.

"You don't know that!" Hermione snapped. "I'm sure he's a very accomplished dueller."

"I wish Professor Flitwick was the one duelling him," Charlie muttered.

Harry chuckled. "Please. I bet Lockhart knew he didn't stand a chance against Flitwick."

The demonstration started and in an instant Lockhart was disarmed and vulnerable. Hermione bristled as her friends stared pointedly at her. "Everyone has a bad day!" she protested.

Quickly brushing Snape’s speed off as luck, Lockhart ordered them to pair up. Charlie went with Hermione and Ron partnered with Harry. Charlie quickly got the hang of the Disarming Spell. Harry forgot about Ron’s broken wand too late, and he found himself on the ground, clutching a bleeding nose and glaring warily at the redhead.

“Sorry!” squeaked Ron.

“What the heck was that spell?”

“I honestly don’t know.”

Ron tried to help Harry up but soon decided that the floor was the best place to be. Adrenaline and excitement spurred the duelling to a new height and hexes were soon flying all over the place.

“Now everyone—I think that’s quite enough. Wands down, if you please. Children, I said wands down.”

_“Enough.”_

One word from Snape was all it took. Everyone immediately lowered their wands. Flustered, Lockhart rubbed his forehead. "Yes, yes. That was a good display. I will now teach you how to block dangerous spells. I’ll need two students to assist me…ah, Charlotte Potter and Parkinson! Why don't you come up here?”

It was the last thing Charlie wanted to do but she reluctantly climbed onto the stage. Pansy stood opposite her with an anticipatory grin on her features. Lockhart explained how to do a Shield Charm, which was rather difficult, considering he could barely do it himself.

"Go!" he shouted.

Pansy didn't waste a second. _"Serpensortia_!"

Charlie stared wide-eyed at the long black snake that shot out of her wand. "What kind of spell is that?" she yelped. She backed up slowly as the snake advanced towards her, hissing lowly.

"I'll get rid of it for you Potter," Snape drawled and raised his wand. Lockhart, desperate to prove himself after his duelling failure, beat him to it.

Only for his spell to launch the snake from the stage and into the crowd, causing students to scream and scatter and the snake to get very angry. It turned its attention on Justin, who paled when the snake rapidly approached him.

" _Knock it off!"_ Charlie cried.

The snake froze and slowly turned toward her. _“Why ssssshould I? Hisssss ssssskin issss meant to be bitten.”_

" _That’s not nice. I know you’re angry, but you don’t have to take it out on anyone. Just leave him alone.”_

_“Don’t tell me what to do.”_

The snake continued to slither towards Justin and Charlie felt her temper flare. _"I SAID STOP!”_ she roared. Startled by the strength of her command, it slumped to the floor and remained still. Charlie gave a sigh of relief. _“Thank you.”_

With a flick of his wand Snape made the snake disappear. Charlie blinked around the room.

Everyone was staring at her in shock and horror. Justin trembled in anger and Snape regarded her with narrowed eyes, his lips in a thin line. Charlie’s brow furrowed in puzzlement. “What?”

Someone grabbed her arm and she was yanked off the stage. Ron and Harry were pulling her through the crowd with Hermione trailing behind. They didn't stop until they were away from the Great Hall and alone in a corridor.

"What was that?" Harry exclaimed.

"I was just telling the snake to get lost!" Charlie said. "Why was everyone staring at me? And why did Justin look so mad?"

"Charlie, you were hissing. Why didn't you tell us you were a Parselmouth?” When Charlie stared at him blankly, Ron clarified, “You can talk to snakes.”

"I only did it once before. I set a snake free on a trip to the zoo. I sort of forgot about it. Is it not something all wizards and witches can do?”

"Nope," Harry said with a sigh. "In fact, Salazar Slytherin was famous for his ability to talk to snakes."

"Oh.” Charlie’s face fell. “But why was Justin so upset?”

"He probably thought you were urging the snake to attack him. It's what it sounded like. No one knew you were telling it to leave him alone," Hermione explained.

“I knew I should have walked out the second I saw Lockhart,” said Charlie miserably.

...

Everyone was now completely convinced that she was the Heir of Slytherin.

Students actually turned around and fled if she entered the same corridor as them. Her fellow Ravenclaws kept their distance and even her dormmates eyed her suspiciously. Hermione, Ron, Harry, the Weasley siblings and her Quidditch teammates were the only ones who wanted to be close to her, and she was grateful for their support.

Fed up with the stares aimed her way, Charlie left breakfast early one morning and ran into Hagrid in the Entrance Hall. "Hello Hagrid."

"Charlie! How've yeh bin?" Hagrid asked. His bushy beard was full of snow and Charlie eyed the two dead roosters he clutched in his large hands.

"Er, fine. What's with the dead roosters?"

"Somethin’s bin gettin' ter them. I'm off ter see Dumbledore fer permission teh put a Protection Charm around the hen coop.”

“Okay. Good luck with that.”

Charlie waved after him and started off once more. She encountered Harry halfway down the corridor and concerned ignited within her at how dazed and confused he seemed. “Harry. Are you okay?”

Harry jumped, having not noticed her. "Uh, yeah!" The two fell into step beside each other. "But I'm the one who should be asking you that. Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Don't listen to anyone. Even if you are the Heir, you're obviously not doing this on purpose. But we really don't think you are.”

"For all we know, I could be." Charlie sighed. "I just ran into Hagrid. Apparently, something's been killing his roosters." She missed the spasm of fear that crossed Harry's face but she felt it. “I’m sure it was just a wild animal,” she said in an attempt at comfort.

“Yeah. Right.” The boy ran a hand down his robes before letting it fall to his side. “That is strange.”

"Hopefully Hagrid figures it out. He’s going to see if Professor Dumbledore will put a Protection Charm around the pen. Speaking of Charms, I better get ready for class. See you later!”

Charlie jogged up a set of stairs and came to a halt when she reached the landing. “Geez!”

A long line of black spiders was scurrying away. Remembering that Hermione had found spiders near the scene of Mrs. Norris’ Petrification, Charlie’s eyes widened with horror. She removed her wand and inched forwards carefully. Her eyes fell on two figures and she slipped her wand in her pocket, staring at them in despair.

Justin was flat on the ground, rigid and staring up in shock. The other one was Nearly Headless Nick, his pearly white form a murky black. Charlie cast a glance around the empty corridor, unsure of what to do and not wanting to leave the pair alone. Then she heard familiar singing coming from further down the corridor and she hollered, " _Peeves!_ "

The poltergeist appeared instantly. "What's Potter calling old Peeves for?" he asked. His beady black eyes fell upon the two figures and he went still.

Charlie gestured towards them. "I stumbled across them like this. Can you whizz down and grab a teacher for me?"

Peeves opened his mouth to respond but before he could someone came rushing down the passage. The poor first-year girl took one look and let out a shrill scream. The terrified noise caused several frantic teachers to rush towards their location with their wands drawn. Curious students followed and soon Charlie was once more caught in an awkward position.

"This isn't what it looks like!" Charlie said quickly.

"I knew it!" Ernie Macmillan cried out. "You got Justin!"

"That's quite enough!" McGonagall cried. She enlisted two teachers to carry Justin while Ernie was in charge of fanning the Gryffindor ghost to the hospital wing.

Charlie was filled with dread when McGonagall motioned for her to follow. Shuffling after the Deputy Headmistress, she let out a weary sigh.

_Dumbledore’s office, here I come._


	9. A Sibling Discovered

McGonagall escorted Charlie to Dumbledore’s office. She lowered into a chair and waited while the Transfiguration professor went to collect Dumbledore. She played with her fingers as she peered around the office, eyes roving over the dozens of portraits of past Headmasters and Headmistresses. They were currently asleep in their frames. A pitiful gagging noise caused Charlie to peer at Fawkes, who looked quite ill.

“I suspect its Burning Day for you?” she asked, and received a weak trill in response.

After her first encounter with Dumbledore’s phoenix, Charlie had pursued further research about the magical creature. She had been particularly interested in the Burning Day process, and never thought she’d get the chance to see part of it up close.

_I guess there’s always a silver lining somewhere._

Her wandering eyes caught sight of the Sorting Hat, which was resting on a shelf near Dumbledore’s desk. She got up from her chair and approached it, fingers hovering near the rim. After an internal debate she picked it up and set it on her head.

_‘Problem, Potter?’_

_‘Not so much a problem, really. I was just wondering…do you think—'_

‘ _That I made the wrong choice when I Sorted you?’_ the Sorting Hat finished for her. _‘I do stand by my initial decision. You would have made an excellent Slytherin.’_

Charlie’s brow furrowed. _‘If you’re so sure about that, why didn’t you Sort me there?’_

_‘Well now, you’re the Ravenclaw. Why don’t you figure that one out for yourself?’_

_‘All right. I’ll try. Thanks.’_

She placed the Sorting Hat back on its perch. She returned to her chair and only had to wait a few more minutes before Dumbledore entered, his long purple robes flowing behind him.

“How are you, Charlotte?” he asked kindly as he sat across from her.

“I’m fine, sir. But what about Nearly Headless Nick?” Charlie asked anxiously. “I know the Mandrakes will help Justin but Nick is…well, he’s a ghost.”

“You need not worry,” assured Dumbledore. “The potion that will restore Mrs. Norris, Mr. Creevey and Mr. Finch-Fletchley will also restore Nicholas.”

“I’m so glad to hear that,” said Charlie in relief. She paused for a second before saying worriedly, “Um…I didn’t have anything to do with—”

“Of course you didn’t,” Dumbledore interjected. “But this is the second time you’ve come across those Petrified. Are you sure there is nothing you wish to tell me?”

His tone was not accusatory, but gentle and concerned. Charlie bit her lip. There was something weighing on her mind, and despite what her friends said, she thought Dumbledore needed to know.

“There’s something I should have mentioned to you after Mrs. Norris was found,” said Charlie slowly. “But I’m worried you might think I’m crazy.”

“Not at all,” said Dumbledore, the twinkle suddenly gone from his eyes as he regarded the girl intently. “You can always tell me anything, Charlotte, and I will always take you seriously.”

Taking a deep breath, Charlie confessed, “I hear a voice that no one else can hear.”

“A voice?”

“Yeah. It’s cold and raspy and seems to be invisible. I heard it for the first time months ago, when I was helping Professor Lockhart. But he didn’t hear anything. I heard it for the second time after the Deathday Party. I tried to follow it and I came across Mrs. Norris.”

“Did you hear this voice when you came upon Mr. Finch-Fletchley and Nearly Headless Nick?” asked Dumbledore sharply.

“No. I really did just find them by accident.”

"You haven’t heard the voice since Halloween?”

“No sir.”

Dumbledore gave a slow nod. “I see. I want you to inform me if you hear this voice again. And I must implore you not to go chasing after it.”

Charlie flushed. “Yes, Professor.”

“Is there anything else you’d like to share?”

“No, that’s everything.”

“Thank you for telling me, Charlotte. I will be sure to look into the matter.”

Charlie nodded and peeked over at Fawkes, who was still trilling weakly. “Um, Professor, is it okay if I stay to watch Fawkes’ Burning Day?”

Dumbledore regarded the girl fondly. “Of course, Charlotte.”

“Thank you!”

Charlie dragged a chair to sit properly in front of Fawkes, leaving Dumbledore to steep his fingers together and mull over the unexpected information she had given him.

...

Christmas morning found Charlie and Hermione finishing up the Polyjuice Potion. Hermione filled three flasks, as someone would be staying behind to brew the Relations Potion, and Charlie tucked them into the pockets of her baggy jeans.

_The bright side of Dudley’s clothing—very big and deep pockets._

They returned to their dorm to open presents. Charlie received another Weasley sweater from Mrs. Weasley, a book on magical creatures from Hermione, a box of Chocolate Frogs from Ron, a bronze scarf from Harry and a box of prank products from the Weasley twins. Hermione was gifted a new book from her parents, a set of rainbow quills from the Weasley twins, a large box of homemade toffee from Mrs. Weasley, a set of different-coloured ink from Harry, a box of Bertie’s Every Flavour Beans from Ron and a pocket book of useful spells from Charlie.

After they finished unwrapping, Charlie and Hermione ventured out of Ravenclaw Tower. Charlie spotted Peeves as he whizzed through the corridor, singing rude Christmas carols and causing as much of a ruckus as he could. She pulled a box of Dungbombs and a box of wizarding firecrackers from her bag and called, “Peeves!”

Peeves stopped his singing as he zoomed over to them. "What are two little birdies doing up so early?" Peeves questioned as he flipped upside down.

"You can’t sleep in on Christmas,” Charlie said airily. "Speaking of which, Merry Christmas!" She thrust the package out to him and Peeves accepted it in disbelief. It was the first time Charlie had ever seen him speechless. She grinned. "Maybe we can consider this a favour repaid. But if anyone asks where you got them don't mention my name."

Peeves gave a wide, devious smile. "Peevsie is off to wish Filchy a Merry Christmas!"

“Maybe wait until after the holidays!” cried Charlie, but Peeves ignored her as he flew down the corridor with a cackle.

Hermione clucked her tongue. "That wasn't a bright idea."

"Well, I _did_ owe him a favour. And besides, it's Christmas!" The girls then heard the faint sounds of a Dungbomb going off, immediately followed by Filch’s hollering. "Hmm. Perhaps I'll get Filch something next year."

...

Harry woke that Christmas morning not with excitement but in panic.

There were rooster feathers in his bed again.

Clambering out from under his covers, he shook out his hair and yanked open his bedside table drawer. He pulled out the black diary and stared at it, his heart pounding in his chest. It had been the coolest thing to have a diary that wrote back. Harry enjoyed receiving advice and feedback from an unbiased source.

But then the blackouts started. He would wake up either in his common room or in a deserted corridor with blank spaces in his memory. The worst had been when he awoke with blood on him just before the Halloween Feast with no clue as to how it had gotten there.

Discovering Mrs. Norris and seeing the ominous, threatening message hadn’t caused him to connect the dots. He’d initially chalked it up to a freaky coincidence.

But then they kept happening. He was furious with himself for taking so long to realize that the cause of his strange behaviour was the diary.

It all started going downhill after he began writing in it.

Harry didn’t know if he was the one responsible for the events plaguing Hogwarts. He didn’t see how he could be—he was absolutely certain that he wasn’t the Heir of Slytherin. But he did know one thing.

There was something very wrong with the diary.

He tucked the little black book underneath his arm and hurried for Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. He peeked inside and was relieved to find it empty. He went straight for a toilet, dropped the diary in and hit the flusher. He left without a backwards glance.

...

The four friends met in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom for some privacy to fine-tune the last threads of their plan. Hermione wrinkled her nose at the massive puddle of water on the floor.

“She’s done it again,” she muttered under her breath.

“So who is doing what?” Harry asked.

“I can stay behind,” offered Ron.

“Fine with me,” said Charlie.

“Okay. While you start on the Relations Potion, we’ll go to the Great Hall and sneak some cupcakes laden with Sleeping Draught to Crabbe, Goyle and Parkinson.”

Ron raised an eyebrow. “Did you brew Sleeping Draught too?”

“Of course not—I nicked some from the hospital wing when I pretended to be visiting Colin.” At the stunned stares her friends aimed at her, Hermione flushed. “I want to make sure we do this right!”

“Yeah, by breaking every rule at Hogwarts,” said Charlie.

Hermione ignored her and handed Ron the vial of Leprechaun Tears along with a book that contained the potion recipe. “We’ll get the hairs after we feed them the Sleeping Draught. Everyone ready?”

“No,” Charlie and Harry chorused.

“We’ll be fine. Let’s go.”

They went to the Great Hall, where they found Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy at the Slytherin table. Draco was not present, which made pulling off their scheme a lot easier. Hermione snuck the flask of Sleeping Draught out from her sleeve and sprinkled a few chocolate cupcakes with it. Charlie leaned her elbows against the table and whispered, “And how exactly are we going to get them to eat these?”

“I need to levitate them over,” said Hermione with a frown. “But I need a distraction.”

Charlie let out a put-upon sigh. “Fine. Just wait for it.”

She spent fifteen minutes picking at the food she had put on her plate. Harry shot bewildered and confused glances at the Ravenclaw table but stopped when Hermione gave him a pointed look. When she felt enough time had passed, Charlie stood, said goodbye to Hermione, and walked towards the doors.

Where she promptly dropped to her knees, clutching at her stomach.

The staff members who had stayed at the castle for the holidays wasted no time in racing to the girl’s side, Flitwick, Dumbledore and Pomfrey leading the charge.

 _Very clever,_ thought Hermione with wide eyes.

The Great Hall was sparsely filled with the students who were staying over the winter break. This, coupled with the fact the Slytherins were eagerly trying to gawk at the fallen Ravenclaw, allowed Hermione to levitate the sabotaged cupcakes onto Crabbe, Goyle and Pansy’s plates without anybody noticing.

“I’m fine,” Charlie was insisting as she sat up, gingerly pressing her fingers against her temples in a rather convincing show. “Really!”

“You are not,” said Pomfrey sharply.

“Are you feeling ill?” asked Dumbledore in concern.

“My stomach doesn’t feel so good.”

“Straight to the infirmary,” ordered Flitwick. “As you should have done the second you felt ill!”

“Sorry,” Charlie mumbled.

“We can take her!” said Hermione as she and Harry approached.

“Thank you, Miss Granger, but I’m sure Miss Potter will be able to rejoin you shortly,” said Flitwick—the response Hermione had been expecting. “If not, I will retrieve you right away so that you may be able to spend some time with her.”

“Thank you,” said Hermione gratefully.

Pomfrey and Flitwick escorted Charlie out of the Great Hall and the teachers returned to the High Table. Out of the corner of her eye, Hermione saw their Slytherin targets sinking their teeth into their cupcakes and she had to quell a smirk.

“Where’s Ron?” Having not noticed Percy approach them, Harry and Hermione both jumped in surprise. Percy stared at them intently. “He said he would be with you lot. He’s not sick as well?”

“No!” said Harry quickly. “He’s fine. He just didn’t want to come to breakfast.”

“Why not?” asked Percy in bafflement.

Harry shrugged. “I’m not sure. Probably wanted to eat his sweets for breakfast instead off eggs. But he said he’d meet back up with us afterwards.”

Percy’s lips thinned in a worried line and he turned on his heel and returned to Gryffindor table. Hermione gave a small sigh. “Well, here’s hoping he doesn’t go looking for him afterwards.”

“Like he’ll ever find him,” Harry muttered. “Are you sure that Sleeping Draught isn’t going to take effect right here? Because that would end in our expulsion.”

“It won’t,” said Hermione confidently. “I didn’t use too much. They just have to leave in the next ten minutes. And they will. Draco isn’t with them and they don’t seem to be capable of spending too much time away from him.”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but we’re no better.”

“Oh, be quiet. Let’s wait for them in the Entrance Hall.”

“I hope you’re right about this,” said Harry nervously.

They hid behind a pillar in the Entrance Hall and, sure enough, the three Slytherins stepped out of the Great Hall only a few minutes later. Hermione sent Harry a smug smile which he ignored. They waited for Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle to disappear out of their sight before following. When they rounded a corner, it was to see them slumped on the ground, dead asleep.

Harry set his hands on his hips. “How could you have possibly predicted all of this would go according to plan?”

“I’m always right, aren’t I?” said Hermione with a smirk. “There’s a closet around here somewhere. Help me move them before a teacher comes through. Don’t forget to take a hair. Now we really need to get moving—that Sleeping Draught isn’t going to last forever.”

They took care of the unconscious Slytherins and sprinted back to Myrtle’s bathroom. Ron was in the process of beginning to brew the Relations Potion and he raised a brow when they entered. “Where’s Charlie?”

“She was our distraction,” informed Hermione. “She pretended to be sick and she was taken to the infirmary.”

“Hopefully she gets here soon,” panted Harry.

The raven-haired girl showed up only a minute later. “I am not doing that again,” she announced.

“You did great!” Hermione dropped the hairs into the flasks. “Everyone—drink up. We need to get in, get all the information we can, and get out quickly. We’ve got an hour at most.”

They drank the thick sludge and Ron’s eyes widened as his friends transformed into Pansy, Crabbe and Goyle. “Blimey.”

“It worked!” said Hermione-as-Crabbe gleefully.

“Don’t talk when we’re in the Slytherin common room. I don’t think Crabbe talks,” deadpanned Harry-as-Goyle.

Charlie-as-Pansy rolled her eyes. “Let’s just go.”

"Don't get busted," Ron called after them.

...

An hour later the bathroom door slammed against the wall and Ron nearly jumped out of his skin. “Don’t do that!” he snapped.

“Sorry,” Charlie said breathlessly. “We were starting to change back while we were in the Slytherin common room and had to book it back here.”

“How is the potion doing?” asked Hermione.

“Fine. Though I could have done without the company,” he said in a low voice.

Myrtle floated out of one of the bathroom stalls and Ron eyed her, worried that she had overheard him. But she merely looked at the new arrivals sullenly. “I don’t suppose you’re here to flood my bathroom some more.”

"Er...no," Charlie answered. “Of course not.”

Ron shook his head as he gave the Relations Potion a gentle stir. “Apparently someone came in earlier and flushed a book down the toilet.”

Hermione was bewildered. “Why would someone do a thing like that?”

Harry paled and took a frantic glance around the bathroom. He had thought he had gotten rid of it, that the flooding was a result of another one of Myrtle’s fits—but no, there it was, the small black book resting beneath a rusted sink.

"Did you see who did it?” asked Charlie.

Myrtle shook her head. "No. I wasn’t here. But I’m sure they had a good laugh.”

She gave a loud sniffle and disappeared down one of the toilets. Hermione rolled her eyes and muttered under her breath, “Really. She’s so dramatic.”

"Never mind that,” said Ron, stepping away from the stall and studying the cauldron with satisfaction. “It’s finished.”

Hermione moved quickly to inspect the potion and she beamed when she found no errors. "Excellent, Ron! It's perfect."

"Come on, then. Tell me. What did you find out?" Ron asked them, wiping his hands on his robes.

Charlie sighed. "Honestly, nothing much. All Draco could tell us was that his father wouldn’t tell him who might have opened the Chamber. He did say that it was opened fifty years ago. Whoever did it was expelled and sent to Azkaban.”

Ron pulled a face. “That’s it?”

“Trust me, if Draco knew anything of note, he would have told us,” said Charlie feelingly.

“All that work for nothing,” grumbled Ron.

"We'll start on a new theory later," Hermione said briskly. “Charlie, Harry, let’s see if you two really are related.”

“All right,” said Harry reluctantly, trying not to focus on the diary his friends had yet to discover.

Harry and Charlie sat cross-legged on the bathroom floor as Ron carefully brought the cauldron over to them. Hermione cleared her throat and gave them their instructions. “You two need to each put a drop of blood into the potion. Then I’ll read the incantation. If the potion turns purple, it means you two are siblings. If it remains silver—”

“Then it means you were wrong,” interjected Ron with a smirk.

Hermione glared at him. “Yes, Ronald. It means I was wrong.” She dug two small knives, usually meant for cutting potion ingredients, from her bookbag and handed it to Charlie. “Don’t worry, I made sure to sanitize them.”

“That makes me feel better,” said Harry sarcastically.

Charlie hesitated for a second before lightly pricking her finger. Harry felt it in his own finger and he gave it a twitch. Charlie held her finger over the cauldron and the ruby red drop fell into the potion. Harry copied her actions and they both found themselves holding their breath as Hermione began to read the incantation.

The potion began to swirl and bubble. After a minute, it settled down and turned a bright purple.

Harry stared with his mouth wide open in disbelief. Charlie lifted her gaze to stare at Harry, awe and joy in her expression.

She and Harry were twins. They were siblings. She had a brother.

She launched herself at Harry and embraced him tightly, which he returned. “I can’t believe it,” he whispered. “I can’t believe it. I have a sister. Why didn’t Uncle Remus ever tell me?”

"I expect he has his reasons.” Hermione found it difficult to keep the smugness out of her voice. "We can discuss this with him if you want.”

"But I don’t understand. We really don’t look anything alike,” said Charlie, sitting back but still having Harry’s hand clasped in her own.

"Fraternal twins, remember? Or perhaps they went to great lengths to keep your secret. I remember reading something about Glamours. They allow a person to change a person’s appearance for a limited amount of time. You can use your wand to apply a Glamour, or for prolonged use, you can take a Glamour Potion.”

Realization dawned upon Harry and he gasped. “No…no way. Every Christmas, Uncle Remus makes me a special drink. He’s done it for as long as I can remember. I thought it was just a tradition, but now…”

"Is it only at Christmas?" Hermione asked.

"No. He makes it for me every holiday. Since we don’t go home for Halloween, he sent it to me. I thought it was strange but I figured he just did it because he thought I would miss it. He did it for Christmas, too, because I wasn’t going home. I can’t believe I never realized it was a potion! It didn’t taste like one.”

“He might have done something to make sure it wouldn’t taste so strange,” mused Hermione. “He must have taken other steps, too. Charlie showed us her photo album and you didn’t say anything when we were looking at a picture of her—er, your—parents.”

“That’s because the picture Uncle Remus gave me doesn’t match Charlie’s at all,” said Harry. 

"I thought so. Your uncle magically altered pictures of your parents,” concluded Hermione.

"This is crazy," Charlie whispered. "Why the secrecy? Why did we get separated?"

"You could always ask Dumbledore," Ron suggested. “I’m sure he knows.”

“I don’t know…surely they never told us for a reason. Maybe it should stay that way. They have to tell us eventually, right?”

“Definitely,” said Harry with a strong nod. It was difficult for him to be angry at Remus for keeping such a crucial piece of information from him. Remus loved him and protected him with everything he had, and he knew without a doubt that being separated from Charlie had something to do with his safety. “Man, I have a sister. This is amazing!”

Charlie beamed at him. “It is.”

They filed out of the bathroom and, in all the excitement, joy and shock of this unexpected discovery, Harry forgot to retrieve his diary.

...

Later in the evening, Charlie returned to Myrtle’s bathroom to collect the supplies they had left behind. She gathered them into her arms and stepped gingerly through the puddle of water. Something lying beneath the sink caught her eye and she peered down.

“Huh.” She knelt down and picked up the black book. “This must be the book someone tried to flush down the toilet.”

 _T.M. Riddle_ was stamped across the front cover in golden letters. She took it with her and exited the bathroom. She ran into Ron in the corridor and he raised a brow. “What are you doing?”

“We left this stuff behind. Since we’re finished, I figured we’d better clean up the evidence.” She cast a glance up and down the corridor and muttered, “Though if a teacher walks this way, I’m going to have a hard time explaining what I’m doing.”

“You better get moving,” said Ron. “But if you do get caught, leave my name out of it, yeah? I had a hard enough time making up a story for Percy. He wanted to know where I was for most of the morning.”

Charlie started to walk away, but she paused and tossed over her shoulder, “I don’t suppose you know who T.M. Riddle is?”

Ron arched an eyebrow. "Well, not personally, but I do know he won Special Services to the School. I saw it when I was polishing all the trophies for my detention."

“Really?”

“Yeah. I’ll show you. Meet me in the trophy room after you’re finished.”

Ten minutes later Charlie joined Ron in the trophy room, where he pointed out a plaque. Charlie leaned forwards and squinted at it through the glass display case. Sure enough, there was the name, engraved neatly onto the smooth wood.

It was the date beneath his name that caused her some pause.

Whoever this Riddle person was, he had won this award fifty years ago. The same year the Chamber had been opened. And she just happened to find his journal.

There was a niggling feeling in her gut. Somehow, this was more than just a coincidence.

“Charlie?”

Charlie jolted out of her thoughts and gave her head a shake. “Sorry! Spaced out for a second. Thanks for showing me.”

“Why did you want to know?”

“Oh, I just saw his name somewhere. Thought you might know who he was.”

Ron shrugged. “He was just a student. Nothing special.”

They chatted a bit more before returning to their common rooms for the night. Charlie climbed into her bed with the book and flipped through the pages. All of them were blank. She removed a quill and some ink from her bookbag and absent-mindedly scribbled her name across a page.

Her hand froze when the ink melted into the pages and was replaced by an elegant handwriting.

**_Hello Charlotte. My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle. How did you come into possession of my diary?_ **

Definitely far more than just some sort of coincidence. 

**_That’s sort of an awkward answer. Someone tried to flush it down a toilet. Sorry._ **

**_I can’t say I blame them. I recorded my most important memories into this diary so they would live eternally, including the most horrible one. It was only a matter of time before someone wanted to dispose of it._ **

Charlie’s fingers twitched over the page. She had a sneaking suspicion she knew what this horrible memory was, but she needed confirmation. **_What happened?_**

**_I was once a student at Hogwarts. The Chamber of Secrets was thought to be only a legend. But someone opened it and the attacks started. The creature within claimed the life of one girl. I found out who opened the Chamber and that student was expelled. Headmaster Dippet ordered me to keep quiet about it and gave me Special Services for my silence. But I knew that the Chamber would one day be opened again._ **

**_Who opened it last time?_ **

**_I can show you._ **

Charlie blinked, confused. "What on earth does he mean by that?"

The pages of the diary ripped from the binding and started to swirl around her. Startled, Charlie reached for her bed hangings, but found herself stuck in place. There was blurring mix of colour and she felt airborne for a moment before her feet struck solid ground and her vision cleared. 

She slowly looked around. She was in Dumbledore's office, but the wizard sitting at the desk was not Dumbledore. She recognized him from the portraits lining Dumbledore’s wall—it was Dippet.

No one reacted to her entrance. She moved closer to Dippet and waved a hand over the parchment he was writing on, but he didn’t even blink. “Okay. This is interesting.”

A knock came at the door and Dippet called, “Enter.”

A tall boy entered with a glittering prefect badge attached to his robes. He lowered into the seat across from the desk and said politely, "Good afternoon, Headmaster. You wanted to see me?"

"Ah, Riddle. I'm aware you asked to stay here for the summer holidays instead of going home." Dippet lowered his quill and put his attention on the teenager.

"With all due respect sir, the orphanage isn't what I call home.”

"Yes, the Muggle orphanage. You are a Muggle-born, correct?" Dippet asked, his memory failing as he tried to recall.

"Half-blood, sir. My mother was a witch and my father a Muggle. My mother only lived long enough to name me."

Dippet made a sound of sympathy. "Yes, well, I'm afraid I cannot allow you to stay behind with the current circumstances."

"You mean the attacks?"

"Yes, those. The Ministry of Magic is even thinking of closing the school entirely if we don't put a stop to it."

"What if the person was apprehended?"

Dippet gave Riddle a sharp look. "Do you know who it is?"

Riddle shook his head quickly. Dippet sighed and dismissed him. Aware that this was the end of the matter, Riddle slumped out of the office and down the corridors. Considering Riddle was the one who pulled her into the diary, it was only logical that he be the one she followed.

They came upon a younger Dumbledore in the corridor and he sent Riddle to his dorm. But Riddle headed to the dungeons and waited in a dark corner, his eyes glinting with determination. Charlie stood near him, eyeing the door he was staring at so intently.

“What do you know that Professor Dumbledore and Professor Dippet don’t?” she muttered.

When it became clear that she would be stuck in the memory for a while, she sat on the edge of a desk and waited. An hour later the door swung open and Charlie’s eyes tripled in size when Hagrid, fifty years younger, walked in. Even as a student he had a bushy beard. He was struggling with a box, muttering frantically under his breath.

"Now, don' struggle. Yeh'll be fed soon enough."

"Evening, Hagrid," Tom said sharply as he stepped from the shadows.

"Tom? What're yeh—?"

"I'm going to have to turn you in, Hagrid. These attacks have to stop. I know you love your pets and never intend for them to hurt anyone, but it killed a little girl."

"It killed no one!" Hagrid snapped, hugging the box close to him. "I don' know what yer talkin' about!"

With narrowed eyes Riddle whipped out his wand and pointed it at Hagrid. The spell he cast missed and the box fell from Hagrid’s arms. Charlie shrieked loudly and hugged her knees to her chest as the creature scrambled out and made an escape.

A hairy body with sharp pinchers, many eyes and black skinny legs rushed for freedom. Riddle tried to stop it but the thing mowed him over and disappeared out the door. Riddle leapt to his feet and started screaming at Hagrid, who was now sobbing earnestly.

Charlie landed back on her bed with a soft thump. The diary was in front of her and she stared at it with wide eyes. Her mind rapidly processed what she had just witnessed and she shoved the diary into her trunk, tiptoeing to avoid waking her sleeping dormmates.

Riddle had surely tried to get across to her that Hagrid was the one who opened the Chamber of Secrets. Charlie didn’t believe it for a second. She knew Hagrid. He was no Heir of Slytherin. Whatever that creature was, it wasn’t the thing that was Petrifying the students. She hadn’t heard it speak. And all it had done to Riddle was run him over.

Running her fingers through her hair, Charlie muttered, “I’m not doing that again.”

…

It was during their next study session that Charlie told her friends all about the diary and what she had experienced. They listened with rapt attention and when she finished Hermione exclaimed, “But that doesn’t make any sense! How could Hagrid have opened the Chamber of Secrets? I don’t think Professor Dumbledore would have let him stay as Gamekeeper if he was the culprit.”

"I bet Riddle just wanted to blame someone because he was the one who did it," Ron said hotly.

“Or maybe he really thought Hagrid was responsible,” said Charlie.

“The…the diary actually sucked you up?” asked Harry.

“Yeah.” Charlie studied Harry closely. Fear was stabbing her stomach. “You don’t have to be scared. I didn’t get hurt or anything.”

“I’m not scared,” lied Harry quickly.

“Are you sure you’re okay? You look sick.”

“Uh, yeah, I don’t feel good. I’m gonna go.”

Harry grabbed his stuff and practically ran from the library. Ron shook his head. “Poor bloke. Must be the ham from lunch. It did taste off.”

“Then why aren’t you sick?” asked Charlie.

Hermione snorted. “Because he has a garbage disposal for a stomach, that’s why.”

“I don’t really know what that is, but I know it’s an insult,” said Ron with a scowl.

...

When February arrived, there was a small army of dwarves delivering Valentines to giddy girls and mortified boys. When Lockhart waltzed through the corridors wearing bright pink robes, Charlie turned on her heel and practically ran in the opposite direction.

Charlie weaved through the crowd of students and was forced to come to halt when her bag suddenly split open, casting her school possessions across the marble floor.

"Smooth, Potter!" Pansy cackled.

“Thanks,” said Charlie tiredly. “I try.”

She had just managed to repair the rip in her bag when a dwarf stopped directly in front of her. “A musical message for Charlotte Potter.”

Pansy and Draco, who had started to move on, immediately backtracked, their faces lit with anticipation. Charlie looked for an escape route and her eyes found Harry a bit down the corridor. He sent her a strained, sympathetic expression and Charlie held back a grimace.

“All right. Go for it,” she said in resignation.

" _Her eyes are as green as a fresh pickled toad,  
Her hair is as dark as a blackboard.  
I wish she was mine, she's really divine,  
The heroine who conquered the Dark Lord."_

Laughter erupted from the observing students and Charlie thought it was the sort of poem Dudley might have written, if he actually bothered to complete his homework for Creative Writing class. But she put on a smile, waved the dwarf off, and started shoving her items back into her bag.

Pansy was doubled over, shrieking with laughter. Spotting a black book among the loose items on the floor, Draco bent down and scooped up Charlie's diary. He smirked and waved it in the air. "Did you write Lockhart's name in hearts on every page, Potter?"

Percy, who was amongst the crowd, reacted at once. "Give it back to her, Malfoy,” he ordered.

Draco sneered. “Why should I?”

“Sorry, Draco, but I’m going to be late.” Charlie used her wand to Summon the diary back to her. She shoved the last item into her bag, ignoring Draco’s furious expression, and sprinted away.

Just when she thought she was free, a familiar voice called, “Charlotte!”

Charlie wished the floor would open up and swallow her. “Hello, Professor. I’m just on my way to Defense class.”

Lockhart beamed and thrust a box of colourful Valentines in her arms. "No need! I was hoping you would do me a favour and hand these out. I’ll give you a note, of course, explaining I gave my express permission, and that you should be excused from any other classes you’ll be missing. I expect it’ll take much longer than just my period.”

"But—"

But he was gone before she could protest. "Fine, whatever," she conceded with a sigh, shuffling off to do her task. "Not like I have anything better to do."

...

"Potter! What are you doing out of class?" McGonagall snapped as the girl appeared in her doorway.

Silently she thrust out the note Lockhart had given her and set the box on a seventh-year’s desk. The girls surged forwards and eagerly rifled through the contents, pulling out the Valentine with their name on it. Charlie had come to the realization that Lockhart (or someone he hired) had crafted one for every girl in the school.

McGonagall was too stunned by the note to scold the Lockhart-crazy girls for their behaviour. She turned a disbelieving glance upon the raven-haired twelve-year-old.

"Please," Charlie begged. "Give me a detention. Get me a restraining order. I just want to go to class."

McGonagall felt a surge of anger towards the man. “He’s gone too far this time!” She had tolerated Lockhart’s behaviour thus far but using a student as his personal assistant was crossing a line. "Potter, toss those silly things out and stay here. I'll go have a word with him."

Charlotte gave her a look of such delight and relief that McGonagall had to smile.


	10. Another Mystery Solved

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The words in bold are direct quotes from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.

All students in Herbology had a hand in helping Professor Sprout get the Mandrakes ready for harvest. Charlie, though she was relieved that those who were Petrified would soon be brought back, was getting really sick of their screaming.

One night, during dinner, all second-year students received an elective sheet from McGonagall. Charlie found herself staring blankly at the options listed on the piece of parchment. "I don't know what any of this means," Charlie stated flatly to Hermione, who was eagerly checking off all the boxes.

"Just sign up for all of them!"

"That's physically impossible and the number of books I'll have to carry will break my back."

Hermione explained each of the electives to Charlie, with the exception of Muggle Studies, which as far as Charlie was concerned was self-explanatory. Hermione turned back to her sheet and said, “You ought to eat something. Madam Pomfrey is beginning to stare.”

Her eating habits had improved over the past several months, thanks to Pomfrey and Flitwick’s supervision. Her daily dose of vitamins already consumed, she shoved a piece of garlic bread in her mouth.

“Did she stop staring?”

“Not really.”

“I’ll eat something in a minute. I’ll be back.”

She stood up and walked over to the Gryffindor table, where relief crossed over Ron’s face at her arrival. “I have no idea what I want to take. Help me.”

"That makes two of us." She glanced at Neville out of the corner of her eye. The boy was looking frazzled and confused. "Three of us, actually. Neville doesn't seem to be having any luck either.”

“How about we take Care of Magical Creatures?" Ron suggested. "That's an outdoor course and I think it'd be interesting. Better than being in a stuffy classroom."

"Sounds good." Charlie borrowed his quill and checked off the Care of Magical Creatures option. "Hermione told me Divination was about using the stars and tea leaves to predict the future.”

"Should be easy enough," Ron said with a nod and they both checked off the Divination option. "Right, we can choose one more."

"I was going to select Ancient Runes." When horror dawned upon Ron’s face at the very mention of the difficult course, Charlie added, “Why don't you take Muggle Studies?”

"It would be useful,” mused Ron. “My dad would certainly be happy about it." He checked off his third option with flourish. "That wasn't so bad. We were just overthinking it. I’ll go tell Harry what we’re taking."

“And I’ll see if I can help Neville. His head looks like it’s about to explode.”

...

As she headed to class, her nose buried in her textbook, Charlie found herself thrown back onto the floor as she struck something solid.

“Sorry!”

“It’s okay,” said Charlie dazedly. The bump caused her vision to glaze and it took a second for clarity to return. Harry was stooped beside her, gathering her items from the ground. Charlie frowned at her bag, which had split open. “Geez. Why does this stuff always happen to me before Transfiguration?”

“Sorry,” repeated Harry, his head ducked down.

“I’m just kidding. It was an accident.”

She assisted in picking up her items and used the Mending Charm to fix her bag. “Huh. Maybe I should invest in a sturdier bookbag. This one just keeps giving me trouble.”

Harry thrust the rest of her supplies into her arms and said quickly, “See you.”

“Yeah, see you.”

Harry darted off and went around the corner. The bell had yet to ring, which meant she might just make it to class. She hated to think what McGonagall would do if she were late. Especially since she couldn’t use Lockhart as an excuse anymore.

Charlie rushed down the corridor. Harry, who had ducked behind a statue the second he was out of her sight, watched her pass by. He breathed a sigh of relief and clutched the black diary against his chest. He felt horrible for ripping her bag but he needed to get it back into his possession. He was just glad Charlie didn’t notice him nicking it from her pile.

Ever since learning about Charlie’s experience with the diary at Christmas, all he could do was fret, fearing the diary would tell her about how he'd been communicating with it for most of the year. But she hadn’t mentioned anything, so he could only hope that his secret hadn’t been revealed.

There was something not quite right about the diary. He didn’t want it in anyone else’s hands, especially not Charlie’s.

...

" ** _Kill this time...let me rip...tear..."_**

The voice, which Charlie dreaded, rumbled down the corridor. Charlie stiffened and said, “It’s speaking again.”

"What's it saying?” asked Hermione in a hush, her eyes darting around warily. “Is it close?”

“It’s trying to kill someone, as usual,” said Charlie, a sick feeling in her gut. “And no, it’s not close.”

"I don’t understand it,” said Hermione with a furrowed brow. “Why is it only you can hear this voice? Why— _oh_!”

Hermione’s looked as if she’d been struck with a thunderbolt. Her eyes were wide and her mouth fell open and Charlie asked urgently, “What?”

"I’ve just had a thought! What if the only reason you can hear the voice is because this beast is a snake?”

Hope and excitement rose in Charlie’s chest. "You might be onto something! If I'm a Parselmouth, then only I would be able to hear the voice!"

"But how is this thing getting around without us noticing it?"

“We have some time before my Quidditch match to check the library. But I have to tell Professor Dumbledore that I heard it again.”

“Charlotte!”

Charlie rolled her gaze heavenward for a brief moment before plastering on a smile. She turned to the approaching Lockhart and said, “Hello, Professor.”

“I’m glad I caught you. Since classes are over for the day, I thought you could provide me with some assistance.”

“Er…that’s right. But I really must see Professor Dumbledore—”

“It’ll only take a few minutes.”

“You go to the library,” said Charlie in resignation. “If I don’t catch up, I’ll see you after the game.”

"You really don't know how lucky you are," sighed Hermione, casting a wistful glance at Lockhart as she jogged off.

As Charlie fell into step beside Lockhart she thought, _Funny. I don’t feel very lucky._

...

After Charlie assisted Lockhart with organizing his books, she sprinted to Dumbledore’s office, knowing she had to speak with him and hoping she wouldn’t be late for her match. By this time, it had been over an hour since she had heard the voice. But Dumbledore did not press, and in her embarrassment, Charlie did not admit she had been delayed in coming to see him.

They didn’t talk more after that, for Dumbledore seemed preoccupied with the matter and Charlie didn’t want to interrupt him further. She debated telling him about Hermione’s theory but decided to wait until they had some concrete facts to go with it.

Thanks to Lockhart, Charlie missed dinner and her Quidditch game would be starting soon. With no time to check the library for Hermione she hurried to her dormitory to change into her team robes. She encountered Ron in the Entrance Hall and they fell into step as they headed across the lawn for the pitch.

“Where have you been?”

“Trapped by Lockhart."

Ron made a face. “He doesn’t take a hint, does he?”

“Well, to be fair, I haven’t really been giving him hints to leave me alone. Have you seen Hermione?”

“No. She’s probably already in the stands with Harry. I haven’t seen him either.”

“Hermione might not make the game. She came up with an idea of what the source of the voice is. She went in the library to do some research. She thinks it might be a snake.”

"Well, that would explain a lot,” said Ron, looking slightly disgruntled that he hadn’t thought of it himself. “Are you sure the thing Hagrid had in the box all those years ago wasn't a snake?"

"It definitely didn't look like any snake I'd ever seen," Charlie remarked. "I saw legs, and it was round.”

The orange rays of the setting sun washed over the crowds of students filtering their way back to the castle as they got closer to the pitch. “They’re going the wrong way,” said Charlie in bemusement.

But then she took notice of the worry and fright on the faces of those who passed by. Fred and George approached them, relief on their features. “I’m glad you guys are okay,” said George, squeezing Ron’s shoulder.

“Of course we are.” Ron frowned. “What’s wrong?”

Charlie knew the answer and her blood ran cold. “There’s been another attack, hasn’t there?”

Fred gave a solemn nod. “Dumbledore found them. Another double attack. The match and the Quidditch Cup have been cancelled.”

“Come on, let’s go back to the castle,” spoke George.

Charlie and Ron trailed after the twins. Her fingers twisted around her broomstick and Ron said nervously. “This is getting serious.”

"Potter, Weasley!" Pinpointing them in the crowd, McGonagall strode over to them, an odd expression on her face. "I need the two of you to come with me, please."

Dread built in Charlie’s heart.

_No. No no no. Not Hermione and Harry. Please no._

Fred and George cast them worried looks as they diverted from the stream of students to follow McGonagall. "Professor?" asked Ron in a small voice. "What's wrong?"

"I think it would be best if you see it for yourselves," she answered in an uncharacteristically soft voice.

The Transfiguration professor led them all the way to the hospital wing. They entered the infirmary and in one of the cots was Hermione, her face frozen with shock and her body stiff and hard like stone. Flitwick stood near her bedside, a deep sadness in his eyes.

"No, no," moaned Ron, dropping his face into his hands. “No, not Hermione.”

McGonagall set a hand on his shoulder. “I am sorry,” she said quietly. “She was found in the library.”

Flitwick approached Charlie and grasped her hands. “It seems dire, but the Mandrakes will soon be fully matured. We will have Miss Granger, and the others, back with us soon.”

“I know,” whispered Charlie.

_But if this thing actually succeeds in killing someone…there will be no potion in the world that will bring them back._

“What about Harry?” asked Ron anxiously. “Where’s Harry?”

“Professor Sprout is searching for him at this moment. When she has located him, she will escort him here,” assured Flitwick. “But I’m afraid you will not be able to wait for him.”

“You may have some time with her, but you can’t stay long. Every student must report to their common room while the staff members hold a meeting,” informed McGonagall.

Flitwick and McGonagall stepped into the corridor to give them some space. Tears built in Charlie’s eyes and she scrubbed them away. Ron gave a hard sniff and they came near Hermione’s bedside. In the cot next to her, to Charlie’s shock, was Pansy Parkinson.

"I bet Parkinson cornered Hermione in the library and tried to get a rise out of her." Ron scowled. "Serves her right."

_But…the beast is supposed to be going after enemies of the Heir. Why on earth would it Petrify a pure-blood Slytherin like Pansy?_

She didn’t have an answer. And it wasn’t the most pressing question at the moment so she put it at the back of her mind. Charlie shook her head and muttered, “No one deserves this.”

"Would you like to hold onto this until Hermione is well again?" Pomfrey asked, coming over and holding out a cosmetic mirror. “She was holding it when she was found.”

It was made from silver and had engravings of snakes around the lip. Pomfrey had not looked too closely at it, for it was clearly Pansy’s. But why did Hermione have it?

“Sure. Thank you.”

Ron and Charlie spent a few minutes with Hermione before McGonagall and Flitwick collected them. “You may visit her again tomorrow,” promised McGonagall.

“Okay,” said Charlie with a nod.

“Straight to your common rooms,” ordered Flitwick. “Do you understand?”

“Yes, Professor.”

“Yes Professor.”

The two left the infirmary and Ron let out a heavy breath. "This sucks."

"You're telling me."

"That’s definitely not Hermione’s,” said Ron, eyeing the mirror in Charlie’s hand. “How did she get Parkinson to give her that? And why did she need it?”

"We’re missing something.”

“No kidding.”

" _You!"_ Startled, the two whirled around to see Draco storming towards them, his face purple with rage. _"You Petrified Pansy!"_

Charlie hastily held up her hands in a placating gesture. "No, I didn't! I'm not the Heir and I'm not the one Petrifying people!"

"Lies!"

“Are you stupid?” sneered Ron. “If Charlie was the Heir of Slytherin why would she Petrify Hermione?”

Draco’s response was to fire a hex at them, forcing the two to dive to the floor. Before Charlie could pull out her wand, Snape rounded the corner, his face hard with anger.

 _"What are you doing?"_ he hissed at his Slytherin student.

"She did it!" insisted Draco, quivering with rage. "She got Pansy!"

"You are angry, Mr. Malfoy, and that is causing you to behave stupidly. Get to your dorm and we'll talk about this abysmal display later."

Shooting a scorching glare at Charlie, he stormed off. Snape pointed at the remaining two, who were straggling back to their feet. "Weasley, Gryffindor Tower. Potter, Ravenclaw Tower. No detours. If I catch you out here again the consequences will be dire."

“Yes, Professor!” Charlie said quickly.

They hurried past him and once they were safely out of earshot Ron grumbled, “What about Malfoy? Where are his dire consequences? And since when does Malfoy believe that you’re the Heir?”

“Draco is mad. And when he’s mad, I’m usually the prime target for him to take out his frustrations.”

"You know, I don't get why Parkinson got Petrified. She's a pure-blood Slytherin."

"I had the same thought. I’m not sure. Right now, what matters most is figuring out how to stop this thing.”

Ron cast her a nervous glance. “Stop it?”

"The Mandrakes will be useless if the beast is still loose. Look, fifty years ago, when the Chamber was opened, only one student was killed. After that, it disappeared. I'm certain the snake will not rest until it kills someone, if it’ll rest at all."

Charlie pushed up her sleeves with a determined look in her green eyes. "I’m now absolutely certain the creature is a snake. It explains why I’m the only one who can hear it. Hermione gave me a book on magical creatures for Christmas. I’m going to do some research.”

"You mean _we_ are going to do some research.”

“You’re supposed to be in Gryffindor Tower,” countered Charlie. “Someone is going to report you missing.”

“My siblings will notice me missing, but I’ll try to get back as soon as I can. I’m going to help you. What about Harry?”

“I don’t know where he is. He’s been acting odd lately and I keep feeling fear from him. But he won’t say what’s wrong.”

"Probably just worried about the whole Chamber business," said Ron.

“Maybe,” said Charlie uncertainly. “But I don’t know. I’m worried about him.”

“I just hope he’s not taking Hermione’s Petrification too hard.”

...

The Head of Hufflepuff had informed Harry about the attack and brought him down for a visit. The boy was now alone in his dorm, his dormmates in the common room, no doubt discussing the current events.

_Hermione's Petrified, and it's probably my fault._

With a groan of despair, he rolled over and hugged his pillow. He had another blackout just before everyone got sent to their common rooms and he felt sick to his stomach. He shouldn’t have used the diary again. But he needed to know what Tom Riddle had told Charlie, and the man was being infuriatingly difficult with divulging that information.

_Oh, Merlin, what am I going to do?_

...

"I think I've been a bad influence," Ron commented as Charlie let him into the Ravenclaw common room.

"Maybe a bit," responded Charlie as they slipped past the panicked students. Everyone was so concerned and worked up over the recent attack that no one noticed the Gryffindor entering their midst.

“I read in _Hogwarts: A History_ that male students can't enter female dorms, due to traditional beliefs. Go up to the first boy's dorm on the right, it's up those stairs, and I'll be right there."

"What if someone is in there?" asked Ron in panic.

"Trust me, it's empty."

The redhead slunk up the stairs to the male dormitory. Charlie rushed into her own dorm, grabbed her book and went to meet with her friend.

They settled onto one of the five beds and the girl held the book between them. "We're looking for a snake," Charlie muttered as she flipped through the glossy pages. “A super magical snake.”

After a few minutes of intent browsing Ron cried, "There it is! The Basilisk!"

The two hungrily read the passage underneath a menacing-looking picture of a thick, giant snake.

**_"Of the many fearsome beasts and monsters that roam our land, there is none more curious or more deadly than the Basilisk, known also as the King of Serpents. This snake, which may reach gigantic size, and lives many hundreds of years, is born from a chicken's egg, hatched beneath a toad. Its methods of killing are most wondrous, for aside from its deadly and venomous fangs, the Basilisk has a murderous stare, and all who are fixed with the beam of its eye shall suffer instant death. Spiders flee before the Basilisk, for it is their mortal enemy, and the Basilisk flees only from the crowing of the rooster, which is fatal to it."_ **

"It all makes sense!" Charlie whispered. "Hagrid's roosters were being killed and the spiders were always around where an attack took place, and always fleeing in the opposite direction."

"Mrs. Norris was Petrified because she saw the snake in the puddle of water," Ron said as he ticked the attacks off his fingers, eyes narrowed in concentration. "Colin must have seen the Basilisk through the lens of his camera. Justin probably saw the Basilisk through Nearly Headless Nick and since Nick is already a ghost he couldn't be killed! And Hermione must have gotten Parkinson’s mirror and they both looked into it just as the Basilisk was behind them.”

"That’s why no one has died yet," Charlie whispered. "So far all of the victims have seen the Basilisk through some sort of barrier. They haven’t looked directly at it. But how is the Basilisk getting around?"

Ron shrugged. "I don't know."

Charlie bit her lip. "Maybe Hagrid has an idea. He does know the most about all sorts of magical creatures. I'm going to get my Invisibility Cloak. I'll meet you outside the Tower."

Ron grinned. "I've definitely been a bad influence on you."

...

The visit to Hagrid had not gone as planned.

Cornelius Fudge, the Minister of Magic, arrived with Dumbledore with the intent of arresting Hagrid. It seemed the most recent attack had forced him to act, even though Hagrid insisted that he didn’t have anything to do with the Chamber of Secrets, then and now.

But no amount of arguing from Dumbledore or Hagrid would convince Fudge otherwise. Hagrid would be taken to Azkaban until everything was sorted.

If things weren't already bad enough for Hagrid, Lucius Malfoy showed up.

Ron and Charlie were squished in the corner of Hagrid’s hut, having only managed to exchange a few words before Fudge’s arrival forced them to hide. Charlie watched with wary eyes as Lucius explained, with malicious glee in his eyes, that the board of school governors had elected to suspend Dumbledore, due to apparent neglect in handling the situation.

Apparently, all the bragging Draco did about his father had merit. Lucius Malfoy really did exert a strong amount of influence.

‘This can't be happening,’ Ron mouthed, face pale with horror.

 _Mr. Malfoy is probably rooting for the Basilisk to kill a Muggle-born,_ she thought bitterly.

Though Hagrid and Fudge were horrified by this revelation, Dumbledore was not as concerned.

"If that is what the governors wish, then I will do what they ask. But," said Dumbledore calmly, his blue gaze sweeping to where the two kids were hidden, "I will always be with this castle, so long there is one within its walls who is loyal to me. In Hogwarts, help will always be given to those who need it.”

Hagrid and Dumbledore were soon ushered out, leaving them alone. Ron whipped the Cloak off them and groaned loudly. "This was rubbish! Hagrid didn't know anything and now Dumbledore is gone!”

Fang was howling in despair, scratching at the door. Charlie rubbed his head to calm him down. "What are the chances the teachers will believe that the cause of the attacks is a Basilisk?"

"Slim to none, especially after the whole Philosopher's Stone issue," Ron muttered. "No one believed us then. Dumbledore might have been able to convince them, since he believed you about the voice, but he got sacked."

Charlie pursed her lips in thought. "I guess we ought to follow Hagrid's hint and follow the spiders."

"But why?" Ron complained.

"I don't know why! That's why we have to follow the spiders! To find out why!" Charlie flung her hands in the air. "Yeah, it sounds crazy, but it must be something important if Hagrid felt we needed to know this."

"I hate spiders,” whimpered Ron.

"We have to. It’s our only lead. We better get back to school before we get caught and thrown into a lifelong detention."

The two headed out of the hut and they had crossed a portion of the lawn when a furious voice shouted, _"Potter! Weasley!"_

Charlie hastily shoved her Cloak into her robes. "And that will be our lifetime detention calling," she whispered with a groan.

" _Come over here this instant!"_

Ron and Charlie sprinted over to the front stairs, where McGonagall was waiting for them. "What do you think you are doing?" she hissed when they came within earshot.

The two looked at each other before giving a feeble shrug. "We just…took a walk," offered the redhead meekly.

McGonagall's eyes flashed. "Professor Flitwick and I gave you direct orders to go to your dorms until you were told otherwise. Fifty points from the pair of you!"

Not trusting them to leave her sight, the Transfiguration professor escorted Charlie to Ravenclaw Tower first. Charlie said goodbye to Ron before entering her common room, which was still packed with people.

Shuffling up to her dorm, Charlie collapsed on her bed and idly petted Snowy's head when she settled by her side.

"I hope we find some spiders soon. I don't know what will be gained by following them, but it better be something. I don't know how much longer Hogwarts can hold out."

…

Eventually the announcement came that it was safe to leave their common rooms. Charlie noticed that Draco was subdued after the Petrifaction of his best friend, not even bothering to shoot her a death glare as he sulked down the corridor.

Spotting Harry scurrying from the Great Hall the next morning, she called his name. But the boy ignored her, picking up his pace and disappearing around the corner.

"Whatever's bothering him, I hope he tells us soon," she said in concern.

Entering the Great Hall, she only stopped by the Ravenclaw table in order to receive her vitamins. Downing them in one gulp, she peeked over at Flitwick and Pomfrey, who were deep in conversations with other professors. She headed straight for the Gryffindor table and squatted by Ron. "You ready?"

"Not really," muttered Ron. He shoved the rest of his bacon towards her and she accepted a couple of pieces. "Is Harry joining us?"

"He took off when I called his name, so I couldn't ask."

Ron frowned. "What’s his problem?”

"We'll corner him after we find the spiders," she promised.

“I’d rather not find the spiders at all,” said Ron moodily.

“Did you hear about Parkinson?” asked Fred, turning away from speaking with George to face them.

“About her Petrification?”

“About the fact she’s a half-blood.”

Ron and Charlie stared at him with wide eyes. “What?”

“The word’s gotten out. Gossip travels fast in the wizarding world. A recently estranged relative, who was definitely tipsy, told a friend and she spread it around. Turns out her mother had a brief affair with a Muggle-born. She didn’t know it at the time, of course. Apparently, he was really wealthy and skilled as a wizard, and he had a super posh surname that was similar to a lot of the other pure-blood families. She erased his memory once she found out. Don’t know how the relative found out, though.”

"Surprised she kept it a secret this long,” mused George. “Most pure-blood families keep a sharp eye on their family members, to make sure they don't do anything to mess up their good name."

“Explains why she got attacked,” said Fred. “She’s going to have a rude awakening.”

Charlie frowned, feeling terrible for Pansy. “No one should have to go through that.”

Fred raised a brow. “You are far too nice, you know that?”

“She doesn’t deserve it. No matter what she’s done to me.”

She let Ron shovel a bit more food into his mouth before standing. He quickly followed her lead and Fred said, “Hey, you just got here!”

“Not really hungry,” said Ron through a mouthful of sausage. “We’re going to visit Hermione.”

Fred’s face softened. “Ah. Tell her we said hi.”

“We will.”

Charlie shot a glance at the High Table, but all the staff members were still in deep discussion, and McGonagall, Flitwick and Pomfrey too occupied to keep their eyes on her. She and Ron hurried out of the Great Hall and began their prowl for spiders. Ron hung behind Charlie, nervously peering into corners as they went. After an hour of searching and coming up with nothing, Charlie set her hands on her hips.

"There's never a spider when you need one," sighed Charlie.

"Does that mean we can stop searching?" Ron asked hopefully.

Just when she was about to nod, she noticed a clump of black spiders skittering for the window. Grinning, she gestured towards them. "I think we have enough time before our afternoon class starts."

They climbed out the window and dropped to the ground below. "Oh," moaned Ron as he saw the long line of spiders moving across the castle grounds.

Charlie squeezed his hand. "Don't worry, they can't hurt you."

"They still look creepy."

The two followed the spiders all the way to the edge of the Forbidden Forest. Ron turned white. "We're not going in _there_ , are we?"

Charlie scratched her neck nervously. "That's where the spiders are going."

"I hate this," Ron muttered as he pulled out his wand. _"Lumos,"_ he whispered.

A bright light shone from the tip of his wand and lit up the ground in front of them. The spiders skittered around the glow and started to move faster. "Where do you think they're going?" Charlie questioned as they moved into the forest.

"I don't know, but I hope it's not too far in."

His wish was in vain and when the spiders eventually stopped, they were deep enough in the forest that they could no longer see the towers of Hogwarts.

"Great." Ron shivered, eyes darting about. "This is a dead end."

A swarm of giant black spiders suddenly descended upon them from the shadows. Ron let out a scream of pure terror and tried to run, but they were surrounded by all sides. The giant spiders took hold of Charlie and Ron and dragged them across the forest floor before depositing them in front of an even bigger black spider.

"Who is it?" the spider spoke, clicking its pinchers with every word.

Ron trembled violently, face ashen. Charlie patted him on the back comfortingly and kept her hand on her wand, though she didn’t pull it out.

"Intruders," one of the smaller spiders answered.

"Kill them," the answer was brisk and curt.

"Wait!" Charlie cried. "We were following Hagrid's directions. He told us to follow the spiders as he was being taken away and this is where we ended up!"

"Hagrid? Taken away?" the spider clicked. "Whatever for?"

Ron was now slumped against Charlie's shoulder and she tried to support him as she spoke. "The Ministry thinks he's the one responsible for the Chamber of Secrets being opened again."

"Hagrid was never the cause of those attacks to begin with!"

"I know!" Charlie said quickly. "Hagrid's a friend of ours. We just want to know if you know where the Chamber of Secrets is. Or maybe if you know who opened it before."

"I was born in a distant land, where a traveller found me and then brought me here. Hagrid bought me when I was just an egg and took care of me during his stay at Hogwarts. He named me Aragog. I had never seen the outside of my cupboard until the day Hagrid was accused of setting the beast free. I escaped into this forest, and since my escape Hagrid makes sure to visit. But I was not the reason for those attacks. I was not the one who killed the girl in the bathroom."

"I know you're not the cause," Charlie said. "We just wanted to see what you knew. I'm very sorry to interrupt you. We'll be going now."

"I'm afraid not. My family does not harm Hagrid on my orders. But I cannot deny them fresh meat when it comes so willingly to us. Goodbye, young friends of Hagrid."

The giant spider moved backwards into the shadows while his children moved in, pinchers clicking rapidly. Charlie clung onto Ron as tightly as he was holding on to her, knowing it was useless to start firing spells when they were outnumbered by a dozen to one.

Just as the spiders closed in, there was a great roaring sound. A blue blur screeched to a halt beside them, horn honking loudly and the doors flying open. Though she was shocked by this unexpected turn of events, she managed to shove Ron inside and jump in after him. The doors slammed shut and the spiders started to crawl over the hood and onto the roof.

"Let's get out of here," shrieked Ron, finally finding his voice.

The car tore forwards and spiders were flung off, flying in all directions. Charlie and Ron hung on to each other as the car twisted and turned throughout the forest before finally stopping just by Hagrid's hut. Shakily, Ron clambered out and fell to the ground.

"I love you," he rasped, reaching out a hand to stroke the tire closest to him. “I’m so sorry I crashed you.”

Charlie gave the car a pat on the hood. "Thank you so much."

"I'll tell Dad you have a nice home in the Forbidden Forest. But if you ever get tired, you can come on back to us."

The car tooted and roared back into its new home, the two waving wildly after it.

"You all right?" Charlie asked Ron.

The ginger climbed to his feet and gave a jerky nod.

"That wasn't too bad for an afternoon," Charlie remarked as they marched back up to the castle.

Ron shot her a horrified glance. "How on earth was this a good afternoon? We almost died! We learned absolutely nothing!"

"Sure we did. The girl who died the last time the Chamber opened died in a bathroom. I'll give one guess as to the Hogwarts ghost that spends most of her time in a bathroom."

Ron gaped. "No way! Moaning Myrtle was the girl who was killed by the Basilisk?"

"It seems so.”

Then a sudden, terrible fear shot through her gut and she crumbled to the ground. The castle blurred and disappeared and for a brief moment, Charlie could see Harry in the Chamber. She gasped and shot upwards, her heart racing in her chest. Ron crouched down beside her; blue eyes wide with concern.

"What's wrong?" he cried. "Is it your scar or is it Harry?"

It took a minute for Charlie to catch her breath. Her entire body trembled and a sheen of sweat shone on her skin.

"I saw Harry—he’s in the Chamber,” she said shakily.

Ron’s eyes went wide with fear. “What? How?”

“I don’t know. The vision I saw was really quick. I just know he’s definitely in the Chamber. He’s in trouble, Ron.”


	11. Delving Into the Depths

Ron and Charlie sprinted back to the castle. They were worried someone might catch them wandering the corridors, but there wasn’t a soul in sight. “Where is everyone?” whispered Ron.

“I don’t know,” muttered Charlie. She peeked around a corner and motioned Ron forwards when she determined the coast was clear. “Maybe they also know Harry was taken into the Chamber of Secrets.”

“How?”

“I don’t know,” she repeated. “But the castle is obviously back in lockdown.”

“It hasn’t even been that long since Hermione was Petrified. Do you think Harry is…?”

Ron trailed off; the fear strong in his voice. He was unable to complete his thought but Charlie knew what he was asking. “No. He’s not dead. I can feel it.”

“Through your bond?”

“Yeah. I felt his fear, and then nothing. Not a bad kind of nothing, though.” Charlie scrunched up her brow, frustrated that she couldn’t find the words to match her feelings. “I don’t know how to explain it.”

“All I care about is that you’re sure he’s not dead,” said Ron in relief.

" _ALL STAFF MEMBERS PLEASE REPORT TO THE GREAT HALL IMMEDIATELY."_

McGonagall's voice boomed throughout the corridors, causing Ron to jump and look fearfully over his shoulder, expecting her to come into view any second. “It's only a magical projection of her voice," Charlie reassured him. She paused for a moment, her green eyes calculating. “Before we go speak to Moaning Myrtle, maybe the professors know how Harry was taken into the Chamber of Secrets.”

Ron looked at her in horror. “You want to eavesdrop on them?”

“You don’t have to come.”

“Stop saying that. You know I’m not going to leave you.”

Charlie gave him an appreciative smile. “Thank you. So long as we’re quiet and keep still, they won’t catch us.”

“I really hope I don’t have to sneeze while we’re in there,” muttered Ron.

Charlie removed her Invisibility Cloak from her robes and swung it over the two of them and they quickly retraced their steps back to the Entrance Hall. Teachers were already filing into the Great Hall and they snuck in as the door was ajar. They hunkered down in a corner of the room, watching as their professors arrived in groups, their expressions grim.

They did not take their usual seats at the High Table. They gathered between the four House tables, muttering amongst themselves. When everyone was gathered Madam Hooch turned towards McGonagall, who stood at the front of the room, and said solemnly, “It’s happened again, hasn’t it? That’s why all students are once again confined to the common rooms.”

“It’s far more serious than another Petrification," McGonagall said heavily. “A student has been taken into the Chamber of Secrets. There was a message left in the same spot as the original one. It said his skeleton would lie in the Chamber forever.”

Charlie felt nausea roll in her gut. _Forever._

“Who was taken?” asked Snape sharply.

“Harry Lupin,” said Sprout thickly, tears in her eyes and her hands trembling. “We spotted the new message only minutes ago and acted immediately. We shouldn’t have let the students out of their common rooms to begin with.”

“There’s another pressing matter to attend to,” said Flitwick, his fingers twisting together anxiously. “None of the second-years have seen Charlotte Potter or Ronald Weasley since afternoon classes. If I know Potter as well as I think I do, she’s no doubt investigating the Chamber of Secrets after the attack on Miss Granger.”

“Our first priority is to find them,” spoke McGonagall. “Until we are able to find a solution to this horrendous situation, the students will be sent home on the Hogwarts Express tomorrow morning. I’ve sent an owl to Dumbledore to inform him of these most recent events.”

“The school is really closing?” asked Pomfrey softly.

“I am afraid so.”

“Is there really no hope for Harry?” asked Sprout wretchedly.

McGonagall hesitated. “I wish I could say otherwise. But not even Dumbledore knows where the Chamber is. And if we can’t find the Chamber…”

_Then we can’t find Harry._

Sprout cried softly and Hooch immediately went to comfort her. The professors stood in a tense, mournful silence. It was a while before Flitwick finally broke the quiet.

"It's for the safety of the students," Flitwick said forlornly. "I do wish Dumbledore had stayed. I don’t know what Mr. Malfoy was thinking—actually, I do know, and I don’t like it.” He took a deep breath before adding, “I'm off to inform my Eagles about the situation. Then I will join the search for Potter and Weasley. I do hope they’re all right.”

Just as the teachers started to shift towards the doors, they swung open and clattered against the wall. Charlie and Ron jolted in shock, and Ron had to clap a hand over his mouth to muffle his startled yelp. They watched as Lockhart strode into the room, golden robes billowing behind him.

"So sorry, I was just shooing a few more students back to their common rooms. Poor things are terribly frightened but I made sure to let them know I had things handled."

“Thank you for your help,” said McGonagall, her tone dripping with sarcasm and disdain, which Lockhart took no notice of.

“Of course! Now, what did I miss?”

“The Heads of House will be informing their students that they will be sent home tomorrow morning.” Something in her eyes shifted and her voice became lighter as she said, “I do believe you were telling us yesterday that you were close to figuring out the location of the Chamber. Correct?”

“Er…I wouldn’t say close—”

“Excellent,” interrupted McGonagall. “While we search for Potter and Weasley, you can continue to seek out the Chamber so that Lupin may be rescued.”

"Yes, Lockhart." Snape's voice was silky and dangerous. "You keep saying you wish you had an opportunity to tangle with the beast. Here's your chance. We'll keep everyone out of your way."

Lockhart’s expression pinched together, as if he had just eaten something sour. “Right. Of course. I’ll…I’ll just pop into my office to get some supplies and I’ll crack on with my search.”

As quickly as he had arrived, he left and Snape rolled his eyes. “Idiot.”

“That should keep him out of _our_ way,” said McGonagall. “Let’s start our search. And remember, that beast is still roaming these halls. Keep alert.”

Charlie and Ron waited until the teachers were out of the room before whipping off the Invisibility Cloak. “There is no way Lockhart knows where the Chamber is,” said Ron flatly.

“Definitely not,” agreed Charlie. “That’s a really tall tale. I didn’t even think he would go that far.”

“Now what do we do?”

“We speak to Myrtle. She might know something. Maybe we should bring Professor Lockhart with us.” When Ron looked at her as if she were crazy, Charlie said quickly, “Maybe he actually _is_ going to try to hunt down the Chamber. If he encounters that beast in the corridors, he won’t stand a chance.”

“And we do?” asked Ron incredulously.

“More so than he does. We’re not striding through the castle like a peacock.”

“Like a what?”

“Never mind.”

They went to Lockhart’s office and Charlie knocked on the door. Lockhart swung it open and she arched a brow at his frazzled appearance. “Children! The other professors are looking for you! You should be in your common rooms!”

“There’s been some rumours floating around the school,” said Charlie innocently. “That you want to take on the Basilisk.”

"Basilisk?" Lockhart rasped.

“Yeah. That’s the beast that lives in the Chamber. Didn’t you know?”

“Of course I did—”

“Great! Ron and I think we might know how to find out where the Chamber is located. Do you want to come with us?”

“Oh! Well...actually, I've just been called away on urgent business.”

Ron’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Really?” He gave the door a hard shove, pushing Lockhart further into the room and allowing the students to see the stash of trunks piled around the office. It was obvious he was in a rush to pack, given that many of the trunks were open and possessions were spilling out of them.

"You didn't get called away on urgent business!" Ron accused. "You don’t know anything about the Chamber!”

“Fine, you caught me!” said Lockhart in agitation. “I may have stretched the truth. But you can’t tell anyone! My reputation would be shattered!”

“Well, then come with us,” suggested Charlie. “If we find out where the Chamber is, then you can tell the other teachers, and you wouldn’t be lying.”

“Then they would expect me to help them slay the beast. I wouldn’t know how to do that.”

“But you’ve written so many books,” pointed out Ron. “You must know _something_.”

“I didn’t actually do any of the things I wrote about,” said Lockhart in a strained voice.

“None of them?” said Charlie in bafflement. She figured his tales were exaggerated, but she thought they at least had a shred of truth to them.

"Of course not!” said Lockhart with a snort. “But no one would read my books if they weren't interesting. Besides, if that old warlock who actually did save a village from werewolves wrote a book, he wouldn't sell half as many as I did. It's all about appearance, you see. And I did do a lot of work in writing these things. I had to track the people down, get their full story and erase their memories afterwards."

If his confession had been an attempt to convince the kids to give up on him, he was wrong. Charlie’s eyes narrowed into slits. “You don’t get to run away like a coward. Not when everyone else in this castle is facing a very real threat. You’re a teacher of this school. You have to stay and fight.”

"Perhaps there _is_ one spell I’m good at. I’ve always had a knack for those Memory Charms.”

His wand was in his hand for barely a second. " _Expelliarmus!"_ Charlie cried. She neatly caught his wand as it flew towards her and she shoved it up the sleeve of her robe. She met Lockhart’s stunned gaze and said, “You’re coming with us. Or your secrets aren’t going to be secrets any longer.”

There was a hard set to her green eyes. For a moment, Lockhart could believe the whispers amongst the students that she was the Heir of Slytherin.

With no other options, Lockhart followed the pair to Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom. Charlie nudged open the door and found the ghost in her usual stall. “Hello Myrtle.”

"What do you want?" Myrtle asked moodily.

"I know this is a personal question, but I was hoping you might be willing to tell me how you died.”

Instead of taking offense, Myrtle’s transparent face filled with delight. "It was horrible! Olive Hornby was teasing me again and I rushed into this very stall. I only stopped crying when I heard someone come in. He started to speak, but I didn’t have a clue what he was saying. I opened the stall door to tell him to get out of the girl’s bathroom and I found myself looking into a pair of menacing yellow eyes. Then I just seized up and died."

“Right,” said Charlie, a bit surprised by how matter-of-fact Myrtle was about her manner of death. “You said you saw eyes. Was the Basilisk outside the stall door?”

“Sort of. The eyes were peering out of a hole across from my stall.”

Myrtle pointed to the sink directly across from them and realization struck Charlie. “The pipes,” she breathed. “The Basilisk gets around the school by travelling through the pipes. That’s why I could never see it when I heard it.”

She approached the sink and inspected it. Along one of the copper taps, so small that it was easily missed by those not looking closely, were engravings of a serpent.

“Got it,” she said with a wide grin.

She and Ron tried twisting the tap, but it wouldn’t budge. Ron shot a glare at Lockhart, who stood stiffly just behind them. “Do you want to try?”

“No,” said Lockhart immediately.

“Useless.” Ron thought for a moment and said, “Well, you were the only one who could hear the voice, Charlie. Maybe you’re the only one who can get inside the Chamber. Try saying something in Parseltongue.”

Charlie took a deep breath and whispered, _"Open."_

A strangled hissing sound came from deep in her throat and the two students watched in amazement as the sink pulled back. A massive pipe was revealed, wide enough for them to walk through. “Do we tell the teachers we found it?” wondered Ron.

Charlie stared at the dark depths of the pipe. “I’m the only one who could do this. So maybe I’m the only one who can stop the Basilisk.”

“Then let’s go get Harry back,” said Ron determinedly. He turned to Lockhart and snapped, “You get to go first.”

"Really, what help am I going to be?" demanded Lockhart.

"Bait."

"Ron!" Charlie rebuked. She glanced at Lockhart and said, “You can go, if you want. But I’m keeping your wand.”

Lips thinning into a tight line, he muttered, “I’ll come along.”

One by one, they crawled down the pipe. They were coated with slime and each step she took made a loud squishing noise.

"That is disgusting," Charlie said flatly.

The tunnel stretched on for what seemed like forever. They finally came upon a vivid, poisonous green snake skin that was gigantic. Charlie eyed the shedding and said, “It’s…really big.”

“Really big,” agreed Ron, a squeak in his voice.

The two were so caught up in inspecting the snake skin that they didn’t notice Lockhart make his move. He tackled Ron, who was closest, and seized the ginger’s broken wand. He aimed it at the two children and said gleefully, “Thank you, for solving this mystery. I’ll be considered a grand hero once I bring back the beast’s skin and tell everyone I slayed it. A shame you won’t be able to confirm my story. The trauma of this ordeal has caused you to lose your memory.”

He was so consumed with greed, so narcissistic, that he didn’t care who he hurt in his path to achieve as much false fame as possible. He was willing to erase their memories, willing to leave Harry in the Chamber, just for another five minutes under the spotlight.

He was despicable.

Rage charged through Charlie’s body, boiling in her veins.

As Lockhart raised Ron’s wand there was a great crumbling sound. A chunk of the ceiling fell by Charlie’s feet and she seized Ron’s hand, yanking him backwards. They stumbled over the coils of the snake skin as the ceiling caved, a cloud of dust rising and stinging their eyes. Eventually everything settled and Charlie stared in horror at the blockade that now stood in front of them.

“Professor Lockhart?” she called frantically, the anger rapidly draining from her. “Are you okay?”

To her great relief, a weak voice from the other side of the wall answered her. “Yes. I think I may have sprained my leg.”

"Serves him right," Ron muttered.

Charlie elbowed him in the side. “If you’re able, you can try walking back up the tunnel. If not, I’m afraid you’re going to have to wait until we come back. I’m not sure how we’ll get by this wall, but we’ll figure it out.”

Lockhart made a half-hearted sound of acknowledgment. Ron glanced at Charlie and whispered, “Did you do that?”

“I didn’t mean to,” she said in remorse. “He just made me mad.”

“Good. It’s about time. With all the pestering he’s done you should have dropped a ceiling on him months ago.”

They approached the large stone wall that was decorated with intertwining snakes. Charlie took a deep breath and said in Parseltongue, _“Open.”_

With a deep rumble, the wall parted and revealed another room. Gripping her wand, Charlie said firmly, “For Harry.”

“For Harry,” repeated Ron, his face white but his blue eyes burning with determination.

They stepped into the chamber together.


	12. A Winning Streak

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The words in bold are direct quotes from Harry Potter and the Chamber of Secrets.

Charlie’s eyes roamed around the chamber as they stepped further inside. Towering stone pillars lined the room, decorated with more carvings of serpents. At the end of the chamber was a statue of Salazar Slytherin, and lying prone on the floor by his feet was Harry.

“Harry!”

The two ran over to him and Charlie knelt by his side. She gently shook his shoulder but he did not respond to her touch. “I think he’s fine,” she said. “He’s just unconscious. We’ll have to carry him out. Maybe Madam Pomfrey or Professor Dumbledore will be able to figure out what’s wrong with him.”

“They won’t be able to do anything for him. He won’t wake up.”

Charlie and Ron whipped around with their wands held aloft. The girl stared in disbelief as Tom Riddle stepped out from behind one of the pillars, looking as if he hadn’t aged in fifty years.

“I don’t understand,” she said, mystified. “You’re still the same. How is that possible?”

“You know him?” asked Ron in shock.

“No, not really. This is Tom Riddle. You showed me the award he won when I asked you about him.”

“But that’s impossible,” insisted Ron. “That was fifty years ago!”

Riddle watched them with an expression that seemed slightly amused. “I am nothing more than a memory, which my diary has preserved all these decades.”

He gestured towards Harry and for the first time Charlie noticed the black diary lying beside him. She furrowed her brow, staring at it for a moment before slowly turning back to face Riddle. Dread built in her heart and she tightened her grip on her wand.

"Can you help us?" Ron asked hopefully. “We need to get Harry out of here before the Basilisk comes back.”

"The Basilisk will only come when called."

“Er…okay. Who calls it?”

“He does,” said Charlie softly. “He’s the Heir of Slytherin. He’s the one who opened the Chamber of Secrets fifty years ago.”

“Well, well…you caught on quickly,” said Riddle with a wide smile. “ _Expelliarmus!_ ”

Charlie did not expect a memory would be able to use magic. Unprepared, her wand, Ron’s wand and Lockhart’s wand, which flew from her sleeve, shot directly into Riddle’s outstretched hand.

“What do we do?” asked Ron fearfully.

“I don’t know,” said Charlie grimly, mentally cursing herself for not alerting a teacher to the Chamber’s location. Once again, she had been too rash, too impulsive. She looked Riddle square in the eyes and demanded, “What does Harry have to do with all of this? What does the diary have to do with all of this?”

“You haven’t figured that out yet?” mocked Riddle.

“I’m afraid I had other things on my mind,” said Charlie flatly. “The diary didn’t seem important. Not then, anyway.”

“You are terribly mistaken. The diary is the reason Harry is here. He’s been writing to me since the start of the school year. He feels quite insecure, that boy. He’s not as smart as Hermione, or as funny as Ron, or as brave and as well-liked as you. He feels invisible.”

“He never told us that,” said Ron, stricken.

“I’m glad he didn’t. You would have simply told him otherwise, comforted him, and that wouldn’t have done me any good. Feeding off his insecurities made me powerful. It allowed me to possess him.”

“Possess him?” said Ron furiously. “What for?”

“You needed someone to open the Chamber of Secrets again,” whispered Charlie.

“I needed a vessel to allow _me_ to open the Chamber again,” corrected Riddle. “With Harry as my tool I was able to kill the roosters and write my personal message on the wall. I had him set the Basilisk upon the school, hurting his friends. But he caught on, after a while, and tried to get rid of it. Then you found it. The person I was most eager to communicate with.”

He stared at her, eyes glinting, and Charlie felt a chill run down her spine. “Me?”

“Yes. Harry spent a great deal of time talking about his friends, but it was your history I properly paid attention to. Since then, I wanted to speak with you. Imagine my delight when I received that very opportunity. I’d hoped to gain your trust and convince you that Hagrid was the one who opened the Chamber, but you were too smart for that.”

“I knew Hagrid would never do such a thing,” said Charlie hotly. “You set him up.”

"In truth, I’m surprised by how many believed me. But I suppose they were just eager to have the matter solved. Dumbledore wasn’t fooled. He always seemed to know when I was trying to trick the other professors. He paid close attention to me, and I wasn’t able to open the Chamber again for the rest of my school years. But I refused to allow the Chamber to remain closed forever. I preserved the memory of my teenage self in these pages so that one day I would be able to finish Salazar Slytherin’s quest.

“I was content, at first, for the Basilisk to hunt down Mudbloods. But for the past few months, a new target has consumed me. It became far more important.”

Riddle was staring at her hungrily and Ron gripped her shoulder protectively. “Why me?” asked Charlie warily.

There was something about his eyes…cold and unfeeling…

Her blood froze in her veins.

_Not again._

“Ever since Harry told me about you, I was fascinated. I wanted to know everything about you, Charlotte Potter. I was so angry when Harry stole the diary back. He was afraid you'd know all of his secrets and what he might have been doing. He said you were very interested in the Chamber of Secrets. That you could hear the Basilisk. That you could speak Parseltongue.

“I knew it was only a matter of time before you solved the location of the Chamber of Secrets. I thought Petrifying one of your best friends and then luring another one down here would compel you to speed up your investigation. I was correct.”

He took a few steps closer, his eyes roaming to Charlie’s forehead, where her scar peeked through the gap in her bangs. Charlie’s posture stiffened and, with a shaking voice, she asked, “What did you want to know?”

"How did you manage to escape Lord Voldemort when you were just an infant? How did you manage to destroy his powers and get off with just a scar? How did you best him in the battle for the Philosopher’s Stone?"

"Wait. You-Know-Who was before your time." Ron looked at Riddle sharply. “How do you know about him? Did Harry tell you?”

Riddle grinned cruelly and gave Charlie’s wand a flick. Glittering letters filled the air.

**TOM MARVOLO RIDDLE**

He waved Charlie's wand once more and the letters started to rearrange themselves.

**I AM LORD VOLDEMORT**

Ron let out a squeak of fear. Charlie clenched her fists.

“Only my most intimate friends knew this name I had created for myself. Did you think I would use my filthy father's name?” Riddle’s voice dripped with disgust. “Did you think I would let that taint the Slytherin blood in my veins? The greatest wizard in the world needed a name that everyone would come to fear!”

"You're not!" said Charlie strongly.

"I’m not what?” asked Riddle in a deadly whisper.

"You're not the greatest wizard in the world. That honour belongs to Professor Dumbledore.”

“Yeah,” said Ron strongly. “You’ve never been a match for him.”

“The memory of me has driven Dumbledore from this castle,” snarled Riddle.

“He’s not gone,” said Charlie firmly. “So long as we’re loyal to him, he’ll always be with us. As far as I’m concerned, he _is_ Hogwarts!”

Riddle gave an ugly laugh, but he was cut off by a musical trilling coming from far down the empty chamber. They all turned to stare in its direction and soon Fawkes flew into the room, the beautiful music swelling for a moment before disappearing completely. The magnificent bird landed on Charlie's shoulder and the Sorting Hat that he had been carrying was dropped by their feet.

"What are you doing here?” Ron asked in awe.

“Really?” said Riddle with a sneer. “The great Albus Dumbledore sends you a bird and an old hat? Does this make you feel safe, Charlotte Potter?”

Charlie raised her chin. “Yes.”

"Harry's life is dwindling by the second. He grows weaker and I grow stronger. Soon his life will be extinguished. That is a fact. But you…you may be kept alive longer, so long as you answer my question. You escaped me not once, but twice, and you’re merely a child. Tell me how.”

“My mother died to save me,” said Charlie quietly. “Her love, her sacrifice, protected me. That’s how I lived. That’s why I’m here. And it’s why you can only speak to me as a wisp possessing another, or as nothing more than a memory.”

Riddle’s eyes flashed. “There’s nothing special about you. Just as I figured. But it’s good to have that clear. I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Charlotte, but there are quite a few similarities between us. Both orphans raised by Muggles. Both half-bloods. Both the only Parselmouths Hogwarts has known. 

"Let’s see if it really was pure luck that kept you alive. Let’s see how Charlotte Potter fairs in a match against Lord Voldemort.”

Riddle walked over to the statue of Salazar Slytherin and whispered in Parseltongue. Slytherin’s head started to part, and from its depths Charlie could hear something stirring to life. Ron clutched onto her arm, a strangled noise leaving his throat.

Fawkes left her shoulder and Charlie missed his warm, comforting weight. He took flight around the room and Charlie’s heart thudded hard in her chest. “Close your eyes,” she instructed Ron.

With a solid thunk, the Basilisk hit the stone floor.

“You tried so hard to save Hogwarts from the Basilisk,” said Riddle silkily. “But now you and your companion will die. See the consequences of being the friend of Charlotte Potter?”

“Shut up,” said Ron fiercely.

The Basilisk was moving, slithering across the floor. Charlie and Ron held each other’s hands, straining their ears and moving blindly around the room. Her foot struck a dip and she went down, her chin cracking off the stone. Pain erupted and she could feel a gash opening on her skin but she paid it no mind.

“Charlie, what do we do?” asked Ron desperately as he hauled her back to her feet.

“We need the Sorting Hat.”

“What? Now? What could it possibly do?”

“I don’t know. But Fawkes brought it here for a reason.”

There was the sound of thrashing and the Basilisk began to cry in agony. Coming to a halt, Charlie took a risk and cracked her eyes open. She could see Fawkes attacking the giant serpent, clawing relentlessly at its eyes. A spray of snake blood erupted across the floor and Riddle roared in fury.

“Ron, you can open your eyes,” she said urgently. “Fawkes blinded it.”

“Brilliantly done Fawkes!” cheered Ron.

“Don’t celebrate yet,” said Charlie grimly. “It doesn’t need its eyes to find us.”

The blinded Basilisk suddenly swung its tail towards them. Charlie had a split second to shove Ron out of the way before she was struck in the stomach. She sailed across the floor, wheezing in pain. Ron started towards her with a shout. The Basilisk immediately pinpointed the sound and the redhead clapped a hand over his mouth, eyes wide with horror. He tried running but the stone caused his footsteps to echo in the spacious chamber and the Basilisk moved its massive body to block his escape.

Charlie climbed to her feet, her ribs aching, and hollered, “Hey!”

The Basilisk’s head snapped towards her and Ron took his chance to run in the opposite direction. Charlie moved closer to the Basilisk, keeping her steps purposefully loud. Riddle regarded her with sadistic amusement.

“It’s all over, Charlotte. You and your friends will die here. Lord Voldemort will return, and there is nothing you can do about it.”

Green eyes stared at the Basilisk. It slithered towards her, scarred eyes still and unseeing. Its mouth parted, revealing fangs that were as sharp as daggers and filled with venom. Charlie clenched her fists and she sent Riddle a glare.

“No. I’m getting my friends out of here. I will do whatever I have to do to make sure you remain nothing more than a memory.”

The Basilisk’s head darted towards her and Charlie dove, rolling across the floor and landing back on her feet. She broke into a sprint, her eyes locking on the Sorting Hat. Seeing what she was doing Ron looked at the Basilisk and shouted, “Over here, you stupid snake!”

He yelled the insult repeatedly, blocking Charlie’s rapid footsteps from the Basilisk’s hearing. The Basilisk moved for Ron and when she was close enough Charlie spotted something glittering just outside the rim of the upturned Sorting Hat.

She came to a stop next to it and gripped what seemed to be a silver handle decorated with rubies. She pulled it fully out of the Sorting Hat, her eyes widening at the sword that was unsheathed.

_Whoa._

" _Kill the blood traitor! Kill the girl! KILL THEM!"_ Riddle screamed, the sight of the sword causing agitation to swell within him.

“Ron! Catch!”

Charlie slid the sword towards Ron and he grabbed it. “Where did this come from?” he cried.

“The Sorting Hat!”

The Basilisk came close and lunged. Ron ducked and rolled, swinging the sword up and slicing off the snake’s darting tongue. Blood spewed from its mouth and the Basilisk gave a gurgling hiss as it dove for Ron again. The boy jumped out of its way but slipped on a puddle of blood. He hit the ground hard and the sword went sliding across the floor.

Charlie ran forwards, diving under the Basilisk’s head and grabbing the sword with one hand and Ron’s arm with the other. There was a rush of air inches away from her shoulder as the beast just barely missed biting her.

“Get back,” she ordered Ron, and the redhead moved several feet behind her. Charlie kept the sword steady in her hands, raising it as the Basilisk once more came towards them. “Come on!” she snapped. “I’m right here!”

It bared its fangs and Charlie planted her feet firmly against the ground. Her heart pounded fiercely in her chest and sweat matted her body. Fear knotted in her chest but her determination kept her from trembling. She watched the Basilisk intently, tracking its every move. The beast stopped just in front of her, its murky eyes seeming to stare straight at her.

There was a beat of silence, the air crackling with tension.

Then it struck, moving in at lightning speed to bite her, and Charlie twisted on her heel. She wrenched the sword straight in the roof of the beast’s open mouth. A fang sank deep into her arm and Charlie buckled, crying out in pain. The fang snapped free from the Basilisk’s mouth as it keeled over, limp and writhing as blood gushed from its mouth and soaked the floor.

Charlie slowly sunk to the ground, her vision blurring. Ron raced towards her and knelt by her side. "Charlie!" he cried. "Charlie, no!"

"Get out of here," Charlie said weakly, fingers fumbling to grasp the fang. She ripped it out of her arm with a gasp. “Take the sword and Fawkes will bring you and Harry to safety.”

"I'm not leaving you," Ron said thickly. Tears burned his throat as he gripped Charlie’s hands tightly.

"You're dead, Potter," Riddle said softly, slowly prowling the perimeter of the Chamber. "The poison ought to take care of you any second. I'll let your friend live long enough to see you die, and then I'll let him watch as I kill his best friend. Perhaps I'll let him go...I need someone to spread the victory I have achieved over Charlotte Potter."

Fawkes returned to Charlie's shoulder. He bent his head low, tears dripping down his beak and landing on the wound in her arm. An intense warmth filled the gash and Charlie’s vision began to stitch back together. Charlie was confused for a moment before realization struck, remembering a particular fact from her research about phoenixes.

Their tears had healing properties.

She sat up and Fawkes flew to the other side of the Chamber. Riddle regarded Charlie, stricken for only a moment. "Phoenix tears," he muttered. "I had forgotten...no matter. I would prefer it if I killed you myself."

As he raised Charlie’s wand Fawkes circled back and dropped the cursed diary into Charlie’s lap. The solution came to her like a bolt of lightning.

_Destroy the diary, destroy the memory._

She did not have her wand. But Basilisk venom was lethal. It was potent. It was her only option.

She seized the fang and plunged it directly through the diary.

Black ink spurted all over her hands. A terrible scream ripped through the air and just like that, after all the terror, Riddle was gone in seconds. The wands clattered to the ground and Ron gaped at her.

"That was brilliant!" Ron exclaimed, helping her to her feet. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. You?”

“Yeah, I’m all right.”

"Oh..."

Harry began to stir and his friends wasted no time in hurrying over to him. “You’re okay!” said Charlie in relief, bending down to embrace him.

"I'm sorry!" Harry cried out. "I didn't mean to attack all those people and I wanted to tell you but I was afraid of what would happen to me and—"

"It's okay," Charlie soothed, helping him up. "You weren't aware of what you were doing. Are you hurt?”

“No.” Harry looked around, eyes widening when he spotted the corpse of the Basilisk. “You guys killed it.”

“Charlie killed it,” corrected Ron.

“I couldn’t have done it without Ron.”

“I’m sorry,” said Harry, crushed with guilt and shame and Charlie nearly recoiled from the strength of it as it flowed through their bond. “I’m so sorry. Thank you for saving me.”

“Of course.” Charlie hugged him tightly. “We wouldn’t ever leave you behind.”

“Yeah, mate.” Ron put his arm around Harry’s shoulder. “You had us really worried.”

Charlie leaned back and squeezed his hand. “You’re not invisible.”

Harry stared at her, stricken. “How did you—”

“Riddle told us.”

“You’re not invisible at all,” agreed Ron strongly. “Trust me, I know the feeling.”

Harry smiled weakly at them. “Thanks, you guys.”

“You’re welcome. And seriously, Harry, don’t feel bad. None of this is your fault.” Charlie stared at the mangled diary. “Tom Riddle is Voldemort’s real name.”

Harry’s went wide with shock. “I…I was talking with You-Know-Who this whole time?”

“Well, a memory of him. He preserved his teenaged self into those pages, so he could one day get someone to open the Chamber for him again.”

Seeing Harry’s confusion, Ron said, “It’s a long story, mate. We’ll tell you later.”

Fawkes trilled at them and Charlie felt exhaustion suddenly descend upon her. "Yeah. Let’s get out of here.”

They collected their wands and Harry frowned at the extra. “What’s that?”

“Lockhart’s wand,” said Ron with a scowl. “You won’t believe what he tried to do.”

They trudged through the tunnel and found that a small hole had been formed in the wall of rocks. “You still there, Professor?” called Charlie.

“It’s about time!” cried Lockhart. “I was worried something had happened to you.”

"He was worried he'd be stuck down here," Ron muttered.

They crawled through the gap and Lockhart stared at the phoenix in disbelief. “Where in Merlin’s name did that come from?”

“Don’t worry about it,” said Ron flatly.

"Right then," Charlie said. "I'll grab hold of Fawkes' tail feathers and he'll fly us all up to Myrtle's bathroom. Then we’re going right to Professor McGonagall’s office.”

"Will Fawkes be able to carry us all?" Harry asked dubiously.

"He's an amazing bird," Ron said with a grin.

Charlie laughed. “He sure is.”

She grabbed Fawkes' tail feathers, with Lockhart holding onto her and Harry holding onto him. Ron was at the back, gripping Harry’s robes with one hand while the other held the Sorting Hat, which he had retrieved on the way out.

Fawkes carried them through the pipe and into Myrtle's bathroom. She stared at them all in shock and disbelief.

"We did it!" Charlie said with a tired smile.

"That's very nice," Myrtle said softly. "But if you had died, I would have let you share my stall."

"That’s, uh, very nice of you.” In a softer voice, she said, “Lord Voldemort opened the Chamber of Secrets all those years ago. You might have known him as Tom Riddle, when he was in school. He’s the reason the Basilisk was set loose. He’s the reason you died. I’m sorry, Myrtle.”

Moaning Myrtle stared at Charlie for a moment. Then with a loud, ugly wail, she cried, “Thank you!” before disappearing back down the toilet.

Charlie faced the entrance to the Chamber. _“Close,”_ she instructed in Parseltongue. The sink rumbled back into place, sealing the opening, and Charlie turned her back on it. Seeing Lockhart gripping the edge of a stall to keep himself upright, Charlie moved to grab an arm. “Come on, Professor Lockhart. Ron, can you take his other side?”

She and Ron helped Lockhart limp through the corridors. They followed Fawkes to McGonagall’s office, and Harry gave one nervous knock before hesitantly easing the door open.

McGonagall, Dumbledore, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and who Charlie guessed to be Mr. Lupin sprang to their feet as the group entered. Slime, dirt and blood dripped to the floor and Mrs. Weasley broke into sobs of relief. Charlie and Ron led Lockhart over to a spare chair, which he collapsed into.

“You’re alive!” wailed Mrs. Weasley, bringing Ron into a tight hug.

“Of course we are,” mumbled Ron, his cheeks flushing red.

After a moment Ron was released so he could hug his father and Charlie found herself engulfed by Mrs. Weasley’s embrace. “I’m so glad you lot are okay,” she said thickly.

“We’re fine,” assured Charlie.

“You’re bleeding,” she said anxiously, leaning back to study the girl.

“I’m fine!” said Charlie quickly, prodding the cut on her chin. “It stopped a while ago. It’s just dried blood.”

"What in Merlin’s name happened?" Lupin demanded. He gripped Harry’s shoulders and was studying him anxiously, his face pale and cheeks sunken in with stress.

"That's what we would all like to know," McGonagall said, her face white. "Lockhart?”

Lockhart jumped slightly at being addressed. “Oh. Well, you see…” His eyes strayed to Ron and Charlie. The redhead was regarding him with a scowl, but what uneased him was the calculating stare of the Girl-Who-Lived. “I didn’t do anything,” he admitted, shifting his gaze to stare at the wall. “It was those two over there responsible for Mr. Lupin’s rescue.”

“What do you mean you didn’t do anything?” asked Mrs. Weasley in shock.

“There was a cave-in. It sprained my leg and I got separated from Miss Potter and Mr. Weasley.”

"How did the cave in happen?" Mr. Weasley asked.

“I…I really don’t know,” said Lockhart, his brow furrowed.

Ron and Charlie exchanged a quick glance that was not missed by Dumbledore. Charlie removed the sword from its place in her belt and set it on McGonagall’s desk. Ron put the Sorting Hat beside it and they turned to face the adults, most of whom were staring at the items in stunned disbelief.

“It’s a long story,” said Charlie, running her fingers through her matted and soiled hair.

Dumbledore leaned forwards with his fingers interlaced. “We have all the time you need, Charlotte.”

She told them everything, starting with the voice only she had been able to hear and ending with the final battle with the Basilisk and Voldemort’s magically-preserved memory of his teenage self.

“But where did this diary come from?” asked Lupin, aghast.

"It was my fault," Harry whispered. "I found the diary with all of my books and I got excited when it started to write back to me. After some time, I started getting possessed by You-Know-Who and did all those terrible things. I'm so sorry."

The burnt and soggy diary rested in between the sword and the Sorting Hat. Dumbledore examined it and said softly, "Brilliant. Not many people know that Lord Voldemort was actually called Tom Riddle during his school days. When his time at Hogwarts was over, he travelled the world. It was during this period he remade himself into Lord Voldemort.”

“The moment the diary started writing back, you should have reported it to Professor Dumbledore,” scolded Lupin. “I taught you how to recognize Dark Artifacts!”

"I'm sorry,” said Harry wretchedly, tears building in his eyes. “I’m so sorry for all of this. Am I expelled?”

“Absolutely not,” said Dumbledore immediately. “None of this is your fault. You may have displayed a lack of judgement, but I assure you wizards older and wiser have been manipulated and tricked by Lord Voldemort.” He regarded the children, and the filth that soaked them, and the haunted glaze in their eyes. “Thank you for your bravery tonight. Mr. Lupin, please go to the infirmary so Madam Pomfrey can look you over.”

Harry nodded and his uncle escorted him out of the office, his hands not leaving his ward’s shoulders. Dumbledore turned to Mr. and Mrs. Weasley and said, “With the Chamber of Secrets closed forever and the potion ready to be administered to the Petrified, I believe a celebratory feast is in order. I would be delighted if you would join us.”

“Thank you, Professor Dumbledore,” said Mr. Weasley.

“Professor McGonagall, would you please alert the house-elves?”

“Of course.”

"Everyone is going to be okay, then?” asked Charlie hopefully as McGonagall departed.

Dumbledore smiled at her. “Indeed. They’ll be up and about just in time for the feast. I am sure you two would like nothing more than a warm bath and some fresh robes, but I’m afraid I need to speak with you for just a moment.”

“When he’s finished, go right to the infirmary,” said Mrs. Weasley sternly.

“Yes, Mum.”

“We’ll see you at the feast.”

“Okay, Dad.”

When they departed Dumbledore regarded Ron over his half-moon spectacles. “Now, Mr. Weasley, I do believe I told you if you broke any more school rules you would be expelled." He went quiet for a moment, just long enough for the children to send him horrified looks, before continuing. “That just goes to show that sometimes we must go back on our word. You'll both receive Special Awards to Services for the School and two hundred points apiece."

“Thanks, Professor,” said Ron in relief.

“Thank you,” said Charlie gratefully.

"Now Gilderoy, we ought to get you down to the infirmary as well. I’ll fetch some professors to assist you.”

Dumbledore swept out of the office and Charlie turned to face Lockhart, her arms crossed over her chest. “Your secret will remain exactly that.”

“You can’t be serious,” protested Ron.

Lockhart also didn’t seem to believe her, his eyes glinting with suspicion. “What do you want?”

“I don’t want anything. I’m not like you.”

“I will not be lectured by a child—”

“I may be a child,” interjected Charlie sharply, “but I know what’s right and what’s wrong. Stealing people’s memories, robbing them of their accomplishments, is definitely wrong. I know that you know that it’s wrong. But you did it anyway. You’re so selfish that you don’t care who you hurt to keep up this image that you’ve made for yourself. But it’s all fake. Your life is made up of lies. It’s false. There’s nothing meaningful about it. You may have your money, your fame, but one day, it’s all going to fall apart. You’re going to encounter that one witch or wizard who is quicker on their feet, faster with their wand, and they might not be as generous as me.”

Lockhart’s lips thinned. “You don’t understand.”

Charlie gave him a sad smile. “Maybe not. But I know in order to go to such lengths to make yourself seem important you must feel tremendously unimportant. To think that you have to steal fame instead of earn it yourself. To think you’re not skilled enough to earn your dreams fairly. I feel sorry for you, to be living such an empty life. If you finally realize that, I hope it won’t be too late for you to change it around.”

She walked over to him and extended his wand. Lockhart stared at it stonily for a moment before accepting it. Her green eyes, once a flashing storm, were now full of disappointment. “I thought it was cool that you were a Ravenclaw. I know now that you’re not a Ravenclaw I want to be. You’re not a Ravenclaw anyone should want to be.”

She turned on her heel to return to Ron’s side, and he eyed her with awe. “That was brilliant,” he whispered.

“Just the truth,” Charlie returned.

Dumbledore returned with Sinistra and a teacher Charlie did not know by name. They spared the two children a look that was mingled relief and astonishment as they escorted Lockhart out of the office. Dumbledore sat behind McGonagall’s desk, motioning Charlie and Ron to come closer. “You say that the sword just appeared in the Sorting Hat?”

“Yes sir,” said Charlie with a nod.

“Would you mind telling me again exactly when the sword appeared to you?”

Charlie repeated the events that occurred just before the arrival of the sword. Ron pointed at her and said, “It might have been Charlie, Professor. You-Know-Who said we were all going to die and he was going to return. Charlie told him that she was going to make sure he stayed a memory. I think the sword showed up right after that.”

Dumbledore’s eyes glimmered. “Is that so? That would make this most interesting. You see, this is the Sword of Gryffindor. Only a true Gryffindor could have summoned it from the Sorting Hat.”

Charlie stared at the sword in surprise. Sure enough, upon closer inspection, there was an engraving just above the hilt; Godric Gryffindor.

“It was definitely Ron,” said Charlie, sending her friend a smile.

“Wicked!” breathed Ron.

Dumbledore pressed the tips of his fingers together and appraised them. “The both of you must have shown me great loyalty in the Chamber if Fawkes came to you. I am immensely grateful to you. Mr. Weasley, if you don’t mind, I would like to speak with Charlotte in private.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Before Ron departed, Dumbledore said, “You have shown incredible courage tonight, Mr. Weasley. You have done your House and Hogwarts proud.”

Ron beamed. “Thanks, Professor.”

Unsure of why Dumbledore wished to speak with her alone, Charlie ventured, “Professor?”

“I imagine Tom Riddle must have been quite interested in meeting you,” said Dumbledore quietly.

“I think he was more interested in how I escaped him. When I told him, he said I wasn’t anyone special.”

“Do you agree with him?”

The question took her by surprise. “Well, I think everyone is special in their own way.”

“Indeed,” concurred Dumbledore.

“But Voldemort did say we were similar. And I suppose we are, in some ways.” The very admittance caused her stomach to twist with disgust but she squared her shoulders, refusing to dwell on it. “The Sorting Hat even wanted to place me in Slytherin. When I asked it why it put me in Ravenclaw, it told me to figure it out, and I think I did. Bravery, ambition, helpfulness, cleverness are all important things. They make us who we are. But so do our choices, and I chose to be a Ravenclaw.”

Dumbledore beamed. “I daresay I couldn’t have said it better myself. If I may ask, do you recall what the Sorting Hat said to you?”

Charlie blinked. “The first time or the second time?”

“I’m a curious old man. Both, if you don’t mind,” said Dumbledore in amusement.

“Er, well, when I was being Sorted, it said I was an interesting case,” said Charlie slowly, realizing she had not before revealed the full conversation she had with the Sorting Hat. “It said I could be placed in any House and I would do well. But it wanted me to excel and it thought I would excel in Slytherin. When I spoke to the Sorting Hat the second time, I just wanted to know why it didn’t put me in Slytherin like it wanted to.”

Dumbledore leaned forwards, his expression intent. “That only confirms my theory that others would find quite ridiculous.”

“Theory?”

“Charlotte, I believe you are the one that summoned the Sword of Gryffindor.”

Charlie’s eyes widened in shock. “But…but I’m a Ravenclaw. You said only a true Gryffindor could pull the sword from the Sorting Hat.”

“You showed immense bravery in the Chamber of Secrets. In the face of death, without your wand and armed with only your wits and nerve, you vowed to protect your friends and defeat Voldemort once more. For the Sorting Hat to claim you would do well in any of the Houses means you have the qualities each Founder valued most. You chose Ravenclaw because you value cleverness and knowledge, and that is what the Sorting Hat took into account. Your actions in the Chamber of Secrets prove that you also have the qualities of a true Gryffindor.”

“Is…is that normal?” asked Charlie hesitantly.

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled. “Certainly not.”

“Are you sure it wasn’t Ron?”

“I am sure Mr. Weasley’s bravery did not go unnoticed. The timing of the sword’s arrival, directly after your defiance to Voldemort, is the basis for my assumption.” 

Charlie reached out, awe in her eyes, and she brushed the hilt of the magnificent sword. “As far I’m concerned, we’re both the reason for the sword showing up. He was just as brave as I was.” She peered at Dumbledore and said, “I do have a question.”

“I will do my best to answer.”

“I’m a Parselmouth. I can speak to snakes without really trying. It just kinda happens. How am I able to do that?”

“Voldemort is Salazar Slytherin’s last descendent and as such he can speak Parseltongue. That particular skill was transferred to you the night he tried to kill you.”

“He gave it to me?” said Charlie in disbelief.

“Unintentionally, I assure you.”

“Well, I suppose, out of all of his powers, that’s not the worst one to have,” said Charlie, a slight frown on her features. “Though I don’t know how to feel about it.”

“It is not something you need to worry about,” said Dumbledore gently. “You have already proven that you are not like Voldemort in the slightest. Sharing his ability to speak Parseltongue does not change that.”

“I know. Thank you, Professor.”

“I owe you an apology, Charlotte. One that’s long overdue.”

Charlie tilted her head to the side, perplexed. “For what?”

“I’ve known that the Dursleys do not treat you as their own child. But I did not know the lengths they went to make you miserable. To deprive you of food…”

He trailed off, his eyes full of grief and despair, and Charlie said quickly, “No, it’s okay! It’s not your fault. I’m fine, really. Did you speak with them?”

“I did.” When Charlie’s expression turned wary, Dumbledore said, “They are aware of what will happen if they continue to punish you so harshly and unjustly. It will not happen again.”

“Thank you,” said Charlie gratefully. “But please, don’t feel bad. I’m not mad at you, or anyone. It’s just…the Dursleys being Dursleys.”

Perhaps it was because she didn’t know any better. Or maybe it was truly because her heart was just that large. But Charlotte Potter held no anger or resentment in her eyes. Despite how they treated her, there was no ill-will on her part.

A sharp knock came at the door, causing Charlie to jump in surprise and Dumbledore to wonder what had taken so long for the man to arrive. “You may come in.”

The door flew open and Lucius Malfoy strode in, Dobby scampering behind him. Charlie smiled at the sight of the house-elf but it quickly fell when she saw how he cowered in the presence of his master.

“Lucius,” greeted Dumbledore pleasantly. “What can I do for you?”

“I would like to know why you are here, in this castle, when you were very clearly told that you were suspended by the governors?” he asked frostily.

“I _was_ suspended,” said Dumbledore cheerfully. “But all the governors, with the exception of you, of course, contacted me. A rumour had reached them, you see, of Harry Lupin being killed. They wanted me back at Hogwarts posthaste.”

“Have you stopped the attacks, then?” asked Lucius acidly.

“I must say I haven’t. But she has.” For the first time, Lucius noticed the twelve-year-old seated across from Dumbledore’s desk. His entire body stiffened. Dumbledore lightly set his fingers against the destroyed diary; his smile serene. “She discovered something quite interesting. The culprit remains to be the same. Voldemort.”

Lucius jerked harshly at the sound of his name. Once he regained composure, he said coldly, “You don’t say?”

Dobby was attempting to signal to Charlie that it was Lucius Malfoy who was responsible for the diary ending up back at Hogwarts, but the moment Lucius had shown up with Dobby in tow, Charlie had known. All this time Dobby _had_ belonged to the Malfoys. Lucius Malfoy was responsible for the Chamber of Secrets being opened once more. He had planted that diary. But how? When?

_Oh._

“Voldemort preserved a memory of his sixteen-year-old self into his diary,” spoke Charlie, catching the attention of the two adults. “He was possessing Harry and making him do his dirty work.”

“What a shame.”

Charlie watched as his hands tightened against his walking stick, nearly strangling the silver serpent that served as the handle. She regarded him with her brow furrowed. “I suppose, even if I hadn’t managed to kill the Basilisk, you wouldn’t have gotten your way. You snuck the diary into Ginny’s cauldron back in the summer, when we were at Flourish and Blotts.

“She was supposed to be writing in it. But she and Harry had a collision back at The Burrow, and Harry didn’t realize it was hers—or meant to be hers, I guess. The Basilisk might have succeeded in killing Muggle-borns, but the blame wouldn’t be on Ginny, and all the hard work Mr. Weasley’s done to protect the Muggles wouldn’t be unraveled.”

“You really shouldn’t tell fibs, Potter,” snarled Lucius, his eyes flashing at her.

“You know the truth, I know the truth, and I killed the Basilisk and closed the Chamber of Secrets forever.” Charlie lifted her chin. “That’s all that matters.”

“Quite right,” said Dumbledore heartily. “I do suggest you keep your Dark Artifacts at home, Mr. Malfoy. I suspect it wouldn’t do your reputation any favours for Arthur Weasley to trace any of them back to you.”

Lucius’ glower was scathing. “I suppose we should count ourselves lucky that Charlotte Potter will always be here to save the day.”

Charlie met his gaze with a smile. “Always, Mr. Malfoy.”

Furious, Lucius turned around and kicked Dobby, sending his small form flying out of the office. His pained squeals echoed down the stairwell and Charlie felt her heart ache and her mind race.

She couldn’t let Dobby leave with Lucius. Not after all he had done to try and warn her and keep her protected. She sprang to her feet and seized the diary. “Can I give this back to him?” she asked hurriedly.

Dumbledore nodded. Charlie ran out of the office, diary in hand. When she stepped out into the corridor, she could hear Dobby’s yelps coming from around the corner. She yanked off a sneaker and removed her sock before sprinting after them. As she went, she shoved the diary into the grime-covered sock.

"Mr. Malfoy!" she called when she reached him. "You forgot something!"

He looked up and Charlie tossed the diary at him. His face twisted with disgust as he pulled off the sock, revealing the battered diary. “You think you’re smart, do you?” he asked in a deadly whisper.

Charlie crossed her arms over her chest, looking at Dobby cheerfully. “Just a little bit, yeah.”

Lucius followed her gaze and froze. Dobby cradled the sock, which he had blindly tossed aside, to his chest. "Master has freed Dobby," he breathed. “Dobby is a free elf!”

For a moment, all Mr. Malfoy could do was stand stock still, utterly speechless. He slowly turned to stare at Charlie, trembling with absolute rage. Charlie rocked back on her heels and said innocently, “Rather _cunning_ of me, isn’t it?”

“Gloat while you can, Potter,” hissed Lucius. “One day, you’re going to meet the same fate as your parents.”

He stormed off and Charlie looked down at Dobby. “Are you all right?” she asked kindly.

Tears were trailing down Dobby’s cheeks. “Charlotte Potter helped Dobby to be free!”

"It was the least I could do. Thank you for trying to warn me. I’m sorry I didn’t take you seriously. What are you going to do now?”

"To find a new master, Miss. It will be difficult, as no master wants to pay a house-elf, but Dobby likes being free. He wants to be paid and have holidays, and to be treated fairly."

Charlie rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m not really sure what the criteria is for a house-elf’s master. I’m not a pure-blood. But I wouldn’t mind if you wanted to stay with me. Be my house-elf.”

Dobby launched himself at Charlie, his arms wrapping around her legs. “Dobby is not worthy!” he sobbed.

"Dobby is worthy plenty," Charlie corrected. “Um, I won’t be able to pay you much. Not while I’m still in school. Maybe when I get older and have a job—”

"Miss doesn't have to pay Dobby!"

"But you said you wanted to be paid,” said Charlie in confusion.

"Working for Charlotte Potter is worth all the Galleons in the world!" Dobby said earnestly.

Charlie beamed. “Thank you, Dobby. Come on. The feast is going to be starting soon, and I can’t show up with Basilisk blood in my hair.”

...

Dumbledore strode down the dimly-lit corridors, his hands loosely folded in front of him. The darkness that had clouded the school had been dispelled in a single night. Those who had been Petrified were restored, and they arrived in the Great Hall amidst applause and cheering. The most touching reunion had been that of Hermione, Charlie, Harry and Ron. They had collided with one another, a mix of tears and laughter and love.

Though Lockhart’s leg was fully mended, he did not attend the feast. In fact, an owl carrying his resignation papers appeared before Dumbledore in the middle of the celebrations. It was this that caused him to excuse himself temporarily from the festivities.

He reached Lockhart’s office and he gave a few quick, successive knocks on the door. It swung open and Lockhart peered out. “Dumbledore,” he said, far from enthused. “What are you doing here?”

“I received your owl announcing your resignation.”

Lockhart’s lips pursed. “Ah. I thought I instructed the owl to deliver them to your office.”

Dumbledore glanced over Lockhart’s shoulder, regarding the half-packed trunks. “Leaving without saying goodbye to the staff and students? I’m surprised, Gilderoy.”

Lockhart grimaced. “Yes, well, I prefer to leave quietly, if it’s all the same to you.”

The man seemed to be drained of his usual confidence and charisma. He was sullen and subdued. When it became apparent that Dumbledore would not be leaving anytime soon, he reluctantly stepped aside to grant Dumbledore passage to his office.

“Have the events of the year frightened you off?” asked Dumbledore.

“No,” said Lockhart stiffly. “I just believe it’s for the best.”

“I don’t suppose it has anything to do with your failed attempt to erase Charlotte and Mr. Weasley’s memories?”

Lockhart whipped around, his hip smacking against the edge of his desk in his haste. “What?” spluttered Lockhart. “I don’t—heavens no, I’m not sure—”

“You did not go anywhere near the Chamber. Was your injury the result of the magic backfiring from Mr. Weasley’s broken wand?” 

Dumbledore’s eyes twinkled madly. Lockhart gaped at him for a moment before saying weakly, “Have you known? All this time?”

“Certainly.”

“But…how?”

“An old man has his secrets,” said Dumbledore with a smile. “But if you are worried about yours being revealed, you need not fret. While I condemn your actions, I have no proof. You made sure of that.”

Lockhart’s shoulders slumped. “I didn’t get the chance to say the spell,” he muttered. “The cave-in stopped me. It…it just came out of nowhere.”

“Charlotte and Mr. Weasley found you out, then?”

“They wanted me to help them find the Chamber of Secrets. I hoped telling them the truth would convince them to let me leave in peace. But that only served to infuriate Charlotte. They wouldn’t leave me alone. I tried to erase their memories, but she…she was quick. My wand was in her possession before I could blink.”

“Did they force you to go into the Chamber?”

“No,” muttered Lockhart. “When they found the entrance, she said I could leave, but she refused to give me back my wand. I had no choice but to go with them.”

“There are always choices, Gilderoy. You merely have a habit of making the wrong ones.”

Lockhart bristled. “I was already lectured quite thouroughly by Charlotte, thank you.”

“Were you, now?” asked Dumbledore, intrigued.

“It doesn’t matter,” said Lockhart with a huff. “She said she would keep my secret.”

“If she’s willing to keep your deeds quiet, why leave?”

Lockhart leaned against his desk; his eyes troubled. “It’s foolish, but her words won’t leave my head. She said one day, I’ll be found out. And I got to thinking that I don’t know a thing about teaching Defense Against the Dark Arts, and what if someone realizes?”

“You would be in the utmost trouble,” said Dumbledore serenely. “If there’s enough proof gathered against you, you will be arrested, tried and sent to Azkaban.”

Lockhart seemed as if he were about to be sick. “Oh dear.”

“I must say I agree with Charlotte Potter. You can’t keep up your façade forever, Gilderoy. Eventually it’ll crumble before you.”

“So I’ve been told.” Lockhart looked at Dumbledore and asked in bewilderment, “If you knew I was a fraud, why did you hire me?”

“You were the only one who applied for the position.”

“Oh. Right.”

“I was also hoping someone would discover your charade when you weren’t able to properly teach what you wrote.”

Lockhart turned white. “Oh.”

“But while the outcome isn’t what I was anticipating, perhaps it’s for the best. You are rattled. Charlotte Potter’s words, all of which are true, seem to have reached a part of your brain you have long since ignored. If you listen to it, and study your heart, I believe you can turn your life around. You were never a poor wizard, Gilderoy. Merely lazy.”

His jaw clenching, Lockhart gave a stiff nod. “I would like to leave by tomorrow morning, so I really must continue packing.”

“The feast will last only an hour more. You’ll have plenty of time to pack afterwards.”

“You want me at the feast?” asked Lockhart in disbelief.

“Certainly!”

“I think I’ll pass, thank you.”

“The rest of the staff are not aware that you are leaving. If you don’t wish to say goodbye, I will not mention it,” persuaded Dumbledore. “You should eat a hearty meal before you set off tomorrow.”

Lockhart eyed his trunks, and felt his stomach rumble in hunger. “All right, then.”

Charlie was leaving the Entrance Hall just as they arrived. She seemed exhausted and Dumbledore regarded her with concern. “Are you feeling well, Charlotte?”

“I’m fine, Professor. Just very tired.”

“Of course. You had quite the adventure today. Good night, Charlotte.”

“Good night.”

They stepped by and Lockhart kept his gaze forwards. But it swung down when a light pressure grasped his wrist. Charlie peered up at him, her expression sincere. “I promise, Professor. You don’t have to worry.”

Despite their assurances that his secret would kept Lockhart could not help the fear that settled like a heavy weight in his gut. Not one but two people knew of his acts of deception. Yes, he had told Charlotte directly, and Dumbledore had figured it out, and there was no wizard or witch as sharp and wise as Dumbledore.

But what shook him to his core was that a twelve-year-old girl had so _easily_ Disarmed him and he had been caught completely unawares by her speed. It made him come to a cold realization that he really _had_ been lucky that no one had managed to stop him before.

He wasn’t invincible. Charlotte Potter had shown him that. It terrified him.

He gave a short nod. Charlie gave a small smile and let go of his wrist. “I really, really hope you change your mind, Professor. I think you’re capable of amazing things.”

She hurried down the corridor and Lockhart stared after her. “She’s not…she’s not like other children,” he managed to say.

“Not at all,” said Dumbledore brightly. “Come along, Gilderoy. I have a knackering for sticky toffee pudding.”

…

Colin and Justin were given special accommodations for their exams, considering they had missed out on portions of the year. Pansy and Hermione were Petrified towards the end of the final semester and as such didn’t miss much. There were some classes that they weren’t present for, so they were allowed to skip the related questions on the exam without their score being impacted. Hermione, of course, was determined to catch up on all the lessons she missed. But before she dove into her books, she listened with rapt attention as Ron and Charlie told her about how they figured out the location of the Chamber of Secrets, and Harry recounting what he could about his experience with Tom Riddle’s diary.

Charlie came to the realization that she would need to find a place for Dobby to stay during the summer. She eventually made an arrangement with Ron and his family that Dobby would be loaned to them for the months she was residing with the Dursleys.

The exams passed by in a blur and soon they were on the way back home on the Hogwarts Express. Charlie wasn’t looking forward to seeing her relatives. They would not be happy with her, but even if Dumbledore’s visit didn’t change their treatment despite his warnings, Charlie would learn to cope.

She was very good at adapting.

As they climbed off the train, Ron spun around to look at his friends. “Hey!”

"What is it?" Harry asked.

"I just remembered! I said Tom Riddle probably blamed Hagrid because he was the Heir of Slytherin! And I was right! Just like how I was right last year about Quirrell and You-Know-Who being one in the same! You lot better start listening to me."

Harry groaned and Hermione rolled her eyes in exasperation. Charlie laughed. “Well, he’s not wrong.”

...

"Albus?"

"Severus! It's been quite a year, hasn't it?"

Snape entered Dumbledore’s office with a scowl on his features. "I suppose that is one way to put it. I've just taken inventory of my supplies and I noticed I'm missing a vile of Leprechaun's Tears. Care to guess as to who could have taken it?"

Dumbledore’s brow furrowed. “You don’t think?”

"I wouldn't put it past them," Snape drawled.

“If they truly did discover their relation, I’m sure they will come to us with questions. We will simply have to wait and see." Dumbledore tilted his head to the side, his eyes glinting with amusement. “You haven’t asked me to expel them. I don’t suppose you’re warming up to the young ones?”

“Most certainly not,” said Snape coldly. “They’re insufferable.”

“Insufferable! Why, that’s the term you use to describe me! That is an improvement.”

“Infuriating is what you are,” hissed Snape, and he stormed out of the office, slamming the door on Dumbledore’s hearty chuckles.


End file.
